Broken Inside
by Trinity-Neo1818
Summary: Takes place after Rev. Neo has managed to survive and escape death, and uses his ability as the One to bring Trinity back. But could this one, selfish act change the course of the future? And who is the mysterious woman who appears in Neo's dreams?
1. Prologue

A/N: This is a new story I have decided to write alongside Moments in the Matrix for the hell of it. I have been putting my heart and soul into my other story, and I currently have a flu/cold thing which means that I don't think I can work on it, because it won't be my best work because I'm not focused. So I decided just to write this instead….because I have to be writing SOMETHING!

This story has a rather complex plot and the format in which I write it is pretty confusing as well, so it may be confusing at first. I made it up this morning and I have to admit that it is even confusing for me. But I hope you can enjoy it nevertheless.

1

It was so quiet. Too quiet. No sound dared to penetrate through the silence that consumed the dark corridor, as if an unwritten law had forbidden it, and the swirling tunnel of darkness ensured that this law would not be broken. There was darkness everywhere, so dark that darkness itself was afraid of it. The walls could not be seen, nor the floor or the ceiling of the winding corridor. Only darkness. Silence. Darkness.

As he walked along down the corridor, stumbling blindly and allowing his feet to guide him past the twists and turns it led him by, he became aware of how loud his footsteps sounded upon the surface of the unseen floor. He was wearing his boots – he could tell by the thudding sound they made as he moved. The sound echoed out across the hall, and along the winding bends of the corridor, loud and definite. The only sound heard for miles. He suddenly became conscious of this, and felt the colour flood into his face. He was breaking the unwritten code of silence, and for a while he was afraid that the darkness would punish him – consume him and hold him for all eternity.

He knew he was meant to be dead. For a time, he almost believed that this was true. There was no breeze in the corridor, as everything was stiff and silent. Yet he could smell an eccentric, musty, moist odor, and hear the pounding of his own feet. Dead people could not feel, hear or smell. He knew that too. He knew because he had been dead once….before she brought him back.

His feet were the only thing that carried him. That constant pounding upon the floor scared him more than the corridor that surrounded him, because he knew that it was his feet that moved, but he did not know where to. They seemed to have a mind of their own, and were carrying him to place he had never seen before, uncontrollably driving him to an unknown destination. He wanted to turn back, and run back the way he came. Anything was better than this, even the lonely life he would lead alone once he returned. But still his feet pressed on, carrying him further and further away from where he wanted to be.

Why didn't the corridor end? Why did it lead him onward, to a place he did not wish to go? He seemed to walk for an eternity, hands grouping helplessly in front of him and feet guiding him round corners and bends, all the while breathing in the same strange scent and listening to the sounds of his own steps. He hated the way his boots sounded on the floor. He was afraid…afraid of disturbing the silence, and of alerting someone to the fact that he was there.

Finally, he saw the light. It was not neon white or ghostly artificial, but warm, bright and welcoming, as if it had purposely been left on to show him the way. It was then that he became aware that he could now see, and the blind veil had been lifted from his eyes. Perhaps he had been temporarily blind before his battle with Smith, but if this was so then he still would not have been able to see if the cloth she had tied around his eyes so long ago had not been removed. And he did not remember taking it off. He did not remember entering the corridor. He only remembered walking, wondering what strange force had brought him to where he was, and why he was not dead, as he was supposed to be….as he hoped to be now that she was gone.

The light grew, until it was strong enough to battle with the darkness, its beams struggling to be dominant. It was like the eternal fight of good and evil, of light and dark. The light won, and he passed through an entranceway and into another domain, leaving the darkness and the echo of his pounding footsteps well behind him.

Now he knew for certain that he was blind no longer, for he could see every detail of the room clearly. It was their room. Or at least it had been their room. But everything was as it always had been when she was alive. Everything was as they had last left it, before they knew that she would die. A chair had been turned out from the rickety table in the small, dank kitchenette. The door to the offside bathroom stood ajar, just as she had left it. And she had thrown her white silken kimono over the end of the bed, which lay as it always had done in the cave at the end of the hall, the velvety sheets crumpled as they had left them upon departure. But it was not their room anymore. Time had past, and it now belonged to someone else.

The new owner lay on the bed atop the sheets, her head resting on the pillow, and one arm lying above the bed. From a distance, he almost believed the figure was her, come back from the dead to haunt him. She had the same womanly essence, and the same, defined feminine curves. But as his feet uncontrollably carried him closer to the bed, he saw that this woman did not have her broad shoulders and had slightly bigger hips, and a bigger bust. She did not have the same scent either, and this new scent had consumed the room and eliminated the old one. It was like roses, crisp and fresh on an early summer's day, and wet with the morning's dew. Besides, Trinity was dead. Dead. Gone. Dead.

Up until that moment, he had not dared to think of her name. It seemed to be a thing too sacred, and too holy to utter even within his own mind. But he hardly thought of this when he arrived and stood beside the bed. His feet stopped moving, but his mind did not claim his body's control. He was forced to stand and stare at the woman on Trinity's bed, her essence now overwhelming, and inescapable, slowly driving him to insanity.

He did not know her name, but he could have sworn that he knew her face. That cloud of dark hair that flew out across the pillow…those ringlets that lined and clung to her face as glossy as the reflection of the moon in a silver stream. He was sure he had heard her breathing before, so smooth and delicate…nothing more than a fragile sound whispered in the wind. Perhaps he had seen her before in a dream….

The room was not quiet and still, as the corridor had been. It was his room, and Trinity's room. Now it was her room too. She was breathing here, sleeping here, eyelids closed placidly over her eyes, her lashes long, fine and dark, brushing the tip of her cheekbone. They were so dark against pale, porcelain skin. Her skin was white, not blotchy or swollen. It was smooth and clear, a clear shade of passive white, as if she were a china doll, carved by a swarm of angels. The tone of her skin remained the same, from her bare, exposed feet to the arm that rested above her head. He saw, when he focused on the other arm that lay loosely at her side, that her fingernails were long and well shaped, defined in perfection. And that scent….that scent of summer roses was stronger than ever….still driving him mad.

It must have come from her clothes. Perhaps she had been walking somewhere, near a garden of roses. Perhaps the scent of them had rubbed off on her attire. He would have believed this, if there had been such a thing as roses in the Real World, for she appeared exhausted as if she had been walking a long way, and the navy blue, stain drawstring pants and white, stained shirt she wore were dirty and disheveled, unfitting of her elegant frame. Still, the colour of her shirt, though purest white, was not as white as her skin. He would have thought she was dead, if it weren't for the pinkish tinge to her cheeks, her slow, frail breathing, and the small smile playing on the corners of her lips.

Of all the features of her body, it was her lips that were the most captivating. They were slightly larger than normal, and deepest red, as if they themselves were made from the petals of roses, and therefore the source of her aroma. They were bright against her purest pale skin, and parted slightly to allow small breaths to escape them. Her breath was hot and fresh, and left a tingling sensation upon his skin.

She murmured in her sleep, upsetting the stillness of her slender face, and shifted her body amongst the sheets, tangling her tall figure within them. For a moment, he feared he had woken her by his presence, and drew in a long, shallow breath, only to release it once she'd settled herself again. Then she was still, lifeless and unmoving, hardly breathing at all. Black coils of crisp, lustrous hair fell over her face, and he saw that they reached as far as the hollow between her neck and shoulder. The smile was gone from her face, and her lips were set and still, no longer parted as they had been before. Without warning, she began to trust her hips forward, propelling herself upwards to where he stood, all the while keeping her eyes shut softly.

"Neo," He heard her call out his name in her sleep. It sounded odd, coming from a voice so different to the one that had called his name before. It was lighter, carefree and almost childlike, yet was filled with the same lustful passion as Trinity's had once been.

She called again. "Neo, I'm on fire….you're on fire. Neo….Neo…."

He was stunned, afraid perhaps of her waking and finding him there. How she knew his name, he did not know. All he knew was that he did not want to be there any longer. Finally he had control of his limbs. It seemed that whatever force had been driving him before had shown him what it wanted him to see. He did not want to know or see anymore, so he turned and fled the room as quickly as he could, darting back into the darkness of the corridor, stumbling blindly away from the light and finding himself unable to block out the sounds of her tossing and turning in her sleep from behind him. He did not look back.

He did not care that he could not see. He forgot the rule of silence that had bound him when he last ran along that moist, dank, winding hall. His boots thudded noisily as he ran, and he found himself panting uncontrollably, stumbling and smashing into walls. He fell back, bruised and bleeding, but stood and ran again. He did not care where he went. He just wanted to get away. He was afraid of that room….his Zion room….and he was terrified of the woman.

He did not know when he stopped running, and he could not even remember finding an exit to the corridor. But before he knew it, he could feel the cold air upon his sweaty face once more, and found that his body had stilled and he was lying flatly upon a steel surface, surrounded by the sounds of the screeching and swooping of sentinels. He could feel pain coursing throughout his entire body, and feel the blood, dry over his blinded, closed eyes, as well as the scratchy material of the cloth she'd tied around them so long ago….it was then that he knew he had been in 01 all along.

With a great burst of pain, he heaved himself into a sitting position and pushed away his dream….

(o)

A/N: Thanks for reading my first chapter. Like I said earlier, the style and the plot of this story is very different to what I usually do, and it was very challenging for me to write at this level of complexity. The plot will slowly be revealed over time, and I am sorry if it's confusing.

Please review!


	2. Resurrection

2

He did not ask to be alive again. He did not even want to be alive. Now that she was dead, it seemed that nothing was worth living for anymore. She was gone from him, and he was alone in the world, and lost in the city of machines.

_I'm never letting go. _It was too late for that. She already had let go, for long since had he felt the presence of her spirit leave his side, and could no longer feel the comforting warmth that only she could give him when she touched him. That was all gone now. It was no more than a memory living in the back of his mind. Perhaps one day, when he was old and tired, he would still find himself alive, feeling the same cold and empty feeling he felt now, and would one day wake and hear a name mentioned that he had not heard for many, many years. He would wonder who owned the name, and try to link it to a face. It wouldn't be until he'd settled into bed for the night that he remembered it was her name. Then he would shrug his shoulders and drift into the usual, cold sleep, forgetting her all over again, perhaps never to remember her once more. She was only a memory now. That was the only way she could remain in this world. Only a memory.

As he sat up, and pushed away the last remnants of the dream he'd just had, he remembered where he was when he heard the swooping, screeching sounds of the sentinels from everywhere around him. He was lost in 01. He was blind, perhaps temporarily or permanently. He had just saved mankind of complete and utter obliteration by making a treaty with the machines when he destroyed Smith at the cost of his own life. But now he was not dead. Now he was alive. And worst of all, he was alone.

He could not remain lying stiffly in 01 forever, that much he knew. He needed to get out, and to return home to Zion. But how? There was still the ship, crashed and damaged, lying still in the side wall of the city. But that was no longer operational, and he did not want to fly that ship, especially not alone. Her body lay there, on the cold, metallic floor of the cockpit, the blood spurting from her heart, drenching her clothes and leaking onto the floor. No, he could not pilot a ship that had been stained by her blood, nor could he ever again return to the place where he had lost her. Too many memories…too much pain and sorrow…not enough time.

He was alive, and he had to make the most of it. It was a blessing to be alive, when he should be dead. Or perhaps he had died and then had been sent to hell. To continue to live like this would be hell. He could not live without her. He would die, slowly and painfully. Her spirit would slowly tear away at him from the inside, piece by piece until nothing would be left. He could not live like that. He would have to take his own life. Perhaps he should simply lie down, and wait for death caused by starvation or cold to claim him.

He could not do that. It would be the same no matter where he died, if he was to die a lonesome, slow death. Whether he returned home or not, she would always be there. She had told him once herself. _I'm never letting go. _Maybe she meant that she would not let go of him until his time had come. She was still there, still haunting him. No matter where he went, he would see her each time he turned a corner. There she would be, dressed in flowing white, apparent only to him beyond the blind veil that covered his eyes. There would always be something, like a whiff of her scent, or an action she used to perform that would force him to remember, and to see her again. He knew then that she would never be gone from him, nor ever forgotten. He would remember her when he was old and dying, and still he would see her there, in front of him. Haunting him. Controlling him. Maybe she would be laughing at him from wherever she was. He would never be free of her, no matter how he died, or what he did next. He would never forget. Never. Never.

There was no sense in lying there any longer, atop that platform in the center of the machine city. He needed to get up, and to return to the ship. He was afraid of it, but he had no choice. It was better to die later than it was to die now. He had to see reason. He had been brought back to fulfill some purpose he had not yet fulfilled. There was still something that needed to be done, and he could not rest until he knew that it was finished.

He stood slowly, and carefully, taking great effort not to fall from the edge of the building. He could still see the glowing, warm lights that had been apparent before, and that had allowed him to see when blind. It was like being in the Matrix, and looking at the code through his eyes, only now he could see things in the Real World, even when blind by means of the aura that each object gave off. It was these strange lights that were able to show him where the edge of the platform was, so that he could grip the edge between his fingers, and lower his body so that he may clamber down to the ground floor of the city. Several times during his climb, his fingers would slip, and something would slash his palms, allowing warm blood to gather in the core of his hand. He could feel it being held in his fists as he climbed, but still he did not utter a sound, nor did he attempt to brush it away until he'd reached the ground, and was safe for now, at least.

He began to crawl. He did not know how he would be able to return to the ship from where he was. There were sentinels everywhere he turned, screeching and soaring above him. They did not harm him, but they did not help him either. To them, he may as well have been invisible. He may as well have been dead. Perhaps, he decided, he was dead. Yet he could still feel pain coursing throughout his body due to his final battle with Smith. The dead could not feel pain.

Onward he crawled, on his hands in knees for fear of tripping or stumbling despite the light shining in his eyes, and guiding him. He did not want to alert the machine's attention either. He had made peace by eliminating a foe they alone could not defeat, and uniting both man and machine in unity to overcome such an obstacle. Now there may be peace between both cultures. But he was unsure as to how they may react, if they were to spy him crawling along their city streets. So he remained quiet, and kept low. They did not see him.

Presently he came upon a pathway, or stairwell that led upwards to some sort of tower. He recognized it immediately from the platform that was present sticking out from the main wall. Beyond it there was a path, and that path would lead him to the ship.

He crawled up the steps. Up and up, taking one at a time. All the while he was aware of the pain seeping through his body, and of the blood leaking from his hands. His head felt heavy, the lights of his vision slurred in together, and for a time he feared that he may faint. He began to crawl faster, taking the steps two at a time so that he may reach the ship before he was rendered unconscious. As he was too focused on this, he did not notice the minute, mechanical beasts that had gathered around him and were crawling beside him noisily, jabbering and screeching excitedly to one another in the queer language only they seemed to possess. It was not until he reached the top of the stairwell and began to crawl back along the metal corridor to the ship that he realized they were there.

"Go away." He hissed, finding his voice was cracked and hoarse from recovery of near-death. The critters merely nattered in response. They were like spiders, he concluded, with long spindly steel legs that made strange, scraping sounds when they walked. He had seen them before, when he first arrived in 01 and was making his way along the same corridor…just after she had died.

"Go on." He urged, jerking his head back down the corridor. "Shoo."

They would not listen, and continued to chatter to one another as more gathered around them. He decided that they simply could not understand the language of humans, and with a shrug of his shoulders, allowed them to follow as he made his way back along the corridor. All the while, he prevented himself from looking down. Below him he would see the lights of the ground that was now thousands of meters away, and himself suspended on a small thread of light, that braked and rippled each time his body came in contact with it. He kept his eyes ahead of him, and did not waver until he saw the ship.

There it was. The Logos. It was her burial ground, and the place of her death. It appeared just as it had when they had crashed all those hours ago. Still the engines smoked and shuddered. Still the panels and pads were broken and bent. Still the ship was not operational, crashed into the side of the city. Still, he knew, her body would lie on the floor of the cockpit, silent, dead and bleeding. He did not want to see it ever again. But it seemed he had no choice.

He would not look at her. He would walk around her and take his seat at the controls of the ship. He would not look at the bloodstained, broken and torn chair she once sat in before she was thrown from it when they crashed, her body tossed to the floor and penetrating by a series of mechanical spikes. But even so, he would feel her within the ship, and taste the scent of her blood. He would have to endure it until he returned home.

He entered the ship, expecting the creatures that had followed him before to leave him be, but they swarmed around him as he slipped down through the side door of the ship, and then scurried away to the lower deck. He did not attempt to chase them, as there were at least twenty, and it was now impossible to find and destroy them all alone, even if he had wanted to. They may plot to have him killed while he slept, but he would not care. If now was not his time to die, then something would bring him back as it had done before to fulfill whatever purpose he was meant to fulfill. But if not, then he would gladly accept his own demise. There was nothing to live for anymore. He had nothing to fear.

To reach the cockpit, he was required to climb the ladder ascending from the main deck. It was located in the core, near the broken screens that had once been able to show him the Matrix code, before they too had been destroyed. After shutting and bolting the door, he found his way to the ladder and climbed the railings one by one, as slowly as he could. Already he could smell the foul stench of a woman's stale blood. It was not an unfamiliar scent. She had been dead before. But he had not believed it. He had refused to believe it, so he had brought her back to life. But that was in the Matrix. When he was strong, and where he could save her. Here he was not the One. Here he was only Neo. Just Neo. He had never felt so helpless and weak in all his life.

He reached the cockpit, only to have the presence of her blood overwhelm him, until it was the only thing he could see, taste, touch and smell. As he pulled himself up into the cockpit completely, and drew in his breath, holding it as though it could help to eliminate the stench of blood, another scent became apparent. It was faint, and almost unrecognizable. But it was still there, struggling and failing to dominate. It was unlike anything else in the world, and not in comparison to any other human. It was her scent, he knew it. It was still there, clinging on to life like a lost memory. But soon it would fade, as she had done. Soon it would go, and he would never smell it again.

Crawling once more, he was able to follow and find it's source. He crawled blindly, forgetting to be afraid of what he may find. Before he knew it, he had found her hand, and he took it in his. It was limp, cold and lifeless. It no longer felt the same, and it never would be the same again. It may have looked like her hand, and appeared to be to any other who touched it. But he knew better. She was not there anymore. The hand was no longer hers.

He could see her body before him. Not her anymore. Just her body. If she had been there, he would have been able to hear her soft and steady breathing, see her ice blue eyes glisten and glimmer when touched by light. There would have been a curt, tight smile on her lips if someone had made a joke, or a breath of laughter heard in the air if it was a joke she had particularly liked. There would be a red tinge to her cheeks if someone was to make a snide remark about how much love had changed her from what she used to be, and anger blazing in her tone and in her eyes if someone had done something she disliked. The kind smile upon her face whenever he caught her eye, or the lustful passion dancing in her eyes when they made love. People often said that it was impossible to tell how she was feeling, as she was a woman who could hide her emotion so well. Only he could tell, by noting simple things like these, that no one else could hardly ever see. But now this was all gone, and only a body was left behind. Not Trinity. Just her body.

Last time she had died, he had felt something was still there, still clinging on to her but unable to survive alone. That was how he knew what he needed to do, that his how he knew that she would hear him if he spoke to her, and how he knew how to bring her back. There was still something there…still some last essence of her being. He had felt it the moment he entered the cockpit. But it was fading rapidly. Soon there would be nothing at all. Unlike in the Matrix, he could not bring her back. He had no power here.

He lay himself down beside her, feeling venerable, helpless and weak. The world was too much for him here, where he had no power. Where he was not the One. He may die soon. He wouldn't care. He would die with her, clinging on to that small part of her that was still there until he breathed his last breath. He would lie still and remember things, things that did not matter. He would remember them until he did not have to remember anymore.

He remembered meeting her in that club, when she had walked up to him and stood beside him there, and told him about the Matrix. He remembered waking up in the Real World, and finding out what the Matrix really was. He remembered his training…fighting Smith for the first time…falling in love with Trinity. He remembered kissing her, and how she'd brought him back to life. He remembered returning the favor when he brought her back atop that rooftop. He remembered the Oracle…

_The power of the one extends beyond this world. It reaches from here, all the way back to where it came from…_

The source. He remembered it clearly now…standing in her dingy kitchen in her apartment, speaking about his destiny. His power was not, as he had thought, limited to the Matrix alone. It stretched beyond that, and into the Real World, right up until he reached the machine city. That was why he was able to have visions in the Real World, and why he was able to stop sentinels with his hand…why he had been able to separate his mind from his body without jacking into the Matrix, and why he could still see when blind, as he saw now. She still lay there beside him…at least her body did, at any rate. It was unmoving and dead, made out of light as everything was. He could see past the light…and see the faint remnants of what he had felt before. Her heart was there, motionless and imprisoned inside her shattered ribcage. It reminded him of the time when he had brought her back before, and when he had seen her heart inside of her by means of the code. It was the same. He was not as vulnerable and powerless as he had first supposed. He still had a chance of bringing her back.

He sat up beside her, no longer afraid of his own vulnerability. If the Oracle's words were true, then he could summon enough power from within him to bring her back. The Oracle was never wrong. If he brought her back, then everything would be as it should be. He would not have to live alone, being torn apart day by day by the emptiness that consumed him. They would live together in peace in Zion, the peace they had always wanted. He grew excited, exuberant at the prospect of having her alive again. No longer could he smell the stench of rotten blood. He blocked it from him, and clung to her own scent, closing his eyes softly and preparing himself for resurrection.

His hand slipped inside her, and at once was consumed by the frostiness and emptiness left behind in her dead body. It was too cold…too dead, and he almost had to abandon hope and draw away his hand. But he held on, reminding himself that soon she would be warm again. His hand was deep inside her now, and he knew he should see this if he were to open his eyes. But he left them closed, for fear of opening them and becoming afraid of what he was doing. His abilities as the One had enabled him to use the light he saw to penetrate his hand through the aura of her body, to search and find her heart. He had felt her heart before when it was dead, and it felt the same as it had done in the virtual world. He clenched his hand around it, realizing how small it felt, and found it hard to believe that something so minute could carry so many emotions…and hold so much love.

All he needed to do was bring the love back to it. All he had to do was spare some of his own energy, and transfer it to her body. He gathered all the necessary energy, and felt it course through his veins, and speed down into his arm, to flow into her heart. It was working, he realized with a jolt of relief and exuberance. He remained firm, eyes closed, until he felt the heart move in his hand, and the blood pump through her body, warm and flowing. He removed his hand quickly, just as he heard a tiny, hardly inaudible gasp from bellow him. From her.

He had done it. The Oracle had been right. She was alive. She would live, and they would have the peace they always craved. He no longer saw himself old and withered, sitting alone in Zion and awaiting his own demise. He saw himself growing old with time, each year more joyful than the last. And she was with him all the while, growing old beside him. Never letting go…

He had to open his eyes, just to make sure. He had to see her look back at him with her own, crystal blue gaze before he could truly believe it. He saw her lying before him, as still and as motionless as before. The light showed no movement, and her face was set still and hard. A rush of disappointment…a sense of failure, and of self hatred filled his entire being. He loathed and despised his very existence. What use was he to anyone if he could not bring her back? She was dead. Gone. Dead. It had all been no more than simple hopes, and the single breath he'd heard her utter was nothing but a memory. Only a memory…

He knew what she'd say if she had known he was crying over her dead body. But she would not know, because she could not know anymore. He could cry all he wanted, and still she would not come back. He would stay here forever, on the floor of the cockpit, sobbing until both their bodies had rotted away with the ages. Still she would not come back. Never come back. Never…

It was then that he heard her breathing. It was slow and inaudible at first, but became louder and raspier with time until he could hear it over the sounds of his sobs. He silenced himself, opening his eyes and watching her bellow him carefully, not daring to touch her until he knew for certain. He could see her chest heaving as she struggled to breath. Yes, she was breathing. She was alive. He had done it after all.

"Hi, Neo." She whispered, her voice thin and raspy as his had been when he first spoke after he awoke in 01. He froze, stabling himself above her with aching arms, breathing thickly, and wondering if it was no more than a fragment of his imagination. Hands reached out to touch him, and freezing fingers groped at his hair, as if she were inspecting to ensure he was who she'd first claimed him to be. He then saw, by means of the light, that her eyes were hazy, as if clouded by death. But soon they would return to normal. Soon she would be well again.

"Am I dead?" She asked him weakly, trembling, frozen fingers running lightly across his face, is if feeling to ensure he was as he always had been, down to the last detail. "Is this heaven?"

He smiled, closing his eyes to the soft caresses she lay upon his face with fingers that felt as if they had been made of ice. "No." He said with a shake of his head. "No, no, you're not dead. You're alive, Trinity. I brought you back."

"How?" She asked him curiously. He became aware of just how weak and limp her body felt beneath him. "Why?"

He did not speak for a moment, shocked that she should ask him such a question, before he replied in bewilderment. "B-because I need you. I brought you back, the same as I did last time."

"I-I didn't know you could…" She breathed. "I didn't think you would be coming back."

"I remembered something the Oracle told me." He said quickly, not wishing to dwell on the past. "But it doesn't matter now. We're here. Together."

"Mmm…" She mumbled, as if savoring his words. She shut her eyes softly, and lay down upon the steel floor. "Did you do it? Is the war over?"

"Yes." He said breathlessly. "It's over, Trinity, I ended it. We've made peace now."

"Peace…" She repeated slowly, a smile quivering upon her lips. How he loved those lips, now that they were no longer still and dead. "I always knew you would do it. I always believed…"

He smiled feebly, no longer able to contain emotion. She was alive, and she was speaking with him, there on the floor of the cockpit. But she was so cold, and so weak. He feared if he left her there that she may not last much longer. He reached to heave her body towards him, but as he did so, she cried out in immediate pain. He set her down again, startled, and then saw fresh blood leaking from her body. He had forgotten to remove the spikes that had been driven into her flesh when the ship had crashed…the source of her death.

"God!" He cried, tracing a path between the metal that plunged into her chest. "Oh God, Trin, I'm so sorry. Here, I'm going to have to take these out. It's going to hurt, ok?"

She nodded, panting, and lowered her hands from his face. He did not want to do it. He did not want to cause her pain, when everything was as it should be. For once, they could be happy. For once, they had a chance to live in peace. He did not want to spoil it. He did not want to be the cause of any further pain. He wanted her to live. He wanted nothing other than their happiness, now that the war was over. He bent, careful not to touch the spikes, and kissed her temple softly and swiftly, before gripping one of the detested, mechanical spikes and pulling it from her flesh with one, strong tug. She screamed, her feeble body tensed, and then relaxed as more blood leaked from the wound he'd made larger. He apologized again, then seized hold of another and followed the same procedure until all had been removed. Each time she cried out in pain, he tortured himself inside. Why had he not removed them before he had brought her back?

Once the final spike had been removed with tremendous effort, he stabilized himself above her once more and grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly as she recovered. He had not imagined it should be this way if she was to come back.

"I'm sorry, Trin, I'm sorry. But it's ok now, isn't it?" He pleaded. "You're alright. I'm going to take you to the Med Bay. I'm going to treat you."

"I'm so cold…" She whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks. "…so cold." This was nothing like the woman he had once known. This was not Trinity as she had been. He knew then that she was ill.

"You'll be fine, I promise." He reassured both her and himself. "Come on. I'm going to look after you."

If things had been any different, he knew she would never have allowed him to scoop her up from the floor, and hold her so that she lay reclining in his arms, with her legs bent at the knees, and dangling over his right arm, her head nestled against his chest. The moment he lifted her, he could tell just how weak she was, for she felt like nothing but a newborn child held securely in his firm grip. This was not the brave, proud and arrogant warrior, fighter and soldier he remembered. But he reassured himself, when he took in the essence of her scent and saw her old smile flicker upon her lips just before she fainted in his arms, that soon she would recover. Soon she would be healthy.

The Med Bay in the Logos was not located in the same position as it had been in the Nebuchadnezzar. It took him some time to find it. But when he did, he was relieved to see that it was larger, and filled with much more medical supplies. He placed her upon the medical table as carefully as he could muster, then gripped the hem of both her over-shirt and under-shirt and pulled it over her head slowly, to minimize pain. He did not want anymore pain.

He acted quickly, gathering anything that appeared to be of use and bringing it to her table, taking great care to be wary of dropping them. She stirred when he returned to her and proceeded to unclip her bloodstained bra, deciding that it would be easier to cleanse her wounds this way. He could feel her shivering beneath him as he dabbed at the wounds in her body, cleaning them with antiseptic. Her face was creased with pain, her eyes snapped tightly as she struggled to stop herself from crying out in agony. He hated himself. Hated himself for bringing her back only to have to hurt her. Why did he not finish this before he brought her back?

By the time he'd finished cleansing and bandaging the wounds, she was numb and blue with cold, and her body felt like a mound of ice. He removed his own over-shirt, and slid it over the naked top half of her body. It did her no good.

"I'm going to get you as many blankets as I can find from the lower deck." He told her. "I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise."

He kissed her temple once more, and then darted down to the lower deck, jumping down the ladder and sprinting into each room, snatching as many blankets as he could carry. He was afraid the cold would kill her…wondered why she was so sick, when it had hardly effected her when he brought her back before…what was wrong with her?

He arrived back in the Med Bay, arms laden and aching with blankets, and scurried to her side, wrapping them around her one by one, and then lying her down. She shivered slightly, and for a moment he was afraid they would not be enough. Soon she settled again, and sighed heavily, clutching the blankets around her tightly. The smile on her face was a smile that belonged to a helpless child.

"What now?" She asked him groggily, already sounding half asleep.

"Now I need you to rest." He smiled kindly upon her, wiping his hands on the under-shirt he still wore. "I'm going to stay with you. Don't worry."

"Neo…" She whispered, her voice tinged with worry. "How will we get back to Zion?"

He froze, as he had not considered this. As always, she was able to see things he could not, and had a more rational mind of thinking. They were alone in 01, and without power or source of energy to run the ship. It was useless to them, and there was no other way to return home without requiring assistance from the machines. He doubted they would be willing to help, and he was afraid to ask them when they had only just made peace. Perhaps they may die here slowly, wasting away year by year, and none would ever know that they were there. They would die of cold and starvation, when their food finally ran out completely. But he would not care. They would die together.

"I don't know, Trinity. But we'll think of something." He shifted so that he could lay down beside her, wedged together on the same table. She was no longer shivering, but even so he wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close to him so that he could warm them both.

He nuzzled into her back, warm and secure beside her. Now it no longer mattered where they were, or what the future may hold for them. All that mattered was her.

(o)

A/N: I hope this chapter has helped to make things less confusing. Writing in this style is certainly a challenge for me! I'm not used to it at all, but I'm doing my best. The plot will be revealed slowly, so it may take some time. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

Thanks for reading, please review!


	3. Searching for Hope

A/N: For those who may be confused about Neo's eyes – at the end of the Matrix Revolutions, Neo loses his eyesight, but still manages to see by a source of light that aids him when blind. According to some cultural beliefs, every visible object upon the earth (alive or not) gives off an aura that cannot be seen. That aura is a unique pattern of light only apparent in that object and no other. This was what Neo could see – the light aura radiating off everything both living and not, and that was how he could see when blind, thanks to his ability as the One. Or at least that's my understanding of the movie…but I could be wrong. Nevertheless, that's how I've chosen to describe it in this story.

3

He did not dream again that night, but this may have been because he barely slept. He soon discovered that the medical table they lay upon together was far too small for both, and after several attempts to remain lying beside her, he eventually realized he could not, and allowed himself to slide onto the floor, shivering in the frost-bitten air. The flimsy under-shirt he wore was hardly warming against the cold, and tucking his legs up beneath his chin and wrapping his arms around them hardly helped at all.

Soon, dawn must have arrived, because he could hear the sounds of the sentinels awakening and swooping past the ship, their tentacles swirling behind them, and propelling them forwards through mid air. He then began to wonder if sentinels awoke at dawn, or during the evening, and it was then that he knew that he had no sense of the time whatsoever.

He saw no reason to remain seated on the frozen metal floor, eating through his skin and turning his pale hands a cool shade of blue, so he grasped hold of the edge of the medical table, heaving himself to his feet. He gasped, clasping a hand to his forehead as a searing shot of pain burst into his skull, blurring the aura of light that radiated off each object – his only source of vision in his blinded state. He exhaled an exhausted sigh as his head cleared, and his mind relaxed when he caught sight of her relaxed formation of light, lying curled and shivering amongst the crumpled blankets that enveloped her frozen body, eyes closed in restless sleep. He noticed how bland and lifeless her face appeared when compared to the streak of blood sliding down her upturned cheek, and would have feared she may have left him again overnight if it weren't for her shallow and pitiful breathing. He placed his bloodstained palm against her cheek, brushing away wisps of ebony hair. It was ice cold.

He began to pace the Med Bay, wondering how long it would be before she woke, or if anyone would ever be able to find them…if they would die on the outskirts of the machine city. A bitter and empty death, caused by starvation, disease or cold. But at least now he would not die alone. He knew it was selfish to think that he brought her back only for him, though it hardly mattered now. He didn't care. He had spent so long thinking of others, and putting them before himself. Now that he had fulfilled his purpose, and ended the war, he had a right to be human…and to think of himself for a change. Nothing really seemed to matter anymore…his job was done, and now they would die together. Slow and painful…but not alone.

He saw no point in bothering to cleanse the sash tied around his wounded eyes, let alone to cleanse the wound itself. They needed to save their supplies, if they were to live for as long as possible. But would they want to live? Would it be better for both of them if they were to die quickly? He did not know anymore…he did not want to have anymore decisions. For once, he wanted someone else to do what needed to be done, and he would not need to be a part of it. Finally, he settled on the edge of the medical table again, one leg resting on the smooth surface and the other stabilizing him on the floor, stroking her hair and tightening the blankets around her.

"Trinity…" He whispered, unsure why he talked to her when she was sleeping. He needed to speak…to clear his head. She always told him that he could tell her anything he wanted…and she would always listen, even when she was sleeping. Even if she had been dead. "…Trinity, I-I don't know what to do now…I….I'm confused. Are we going to die out here? Will anyone bother to try and find us? I just wish…I just wish I had a plan…"

As he spoke, he came to notice one of the mechanical creatures that had boarded the ship before, upon his own entry. He had thought they may try to kill him in the dead of night, and for a moment he instinctively feared for his life upon the sight of it, though the tiny being made no effort to attack him, but instead nattered insanely in its strange, unknown, screeching language. Puzzled, he raised one brow and slipped his leg from the medical table so that he was standing upright.

"What?" He asked softly, placing his hand on Trinity's blanket-clad form, moving cautiously towards the being. It jabbered furtively, moving in a circular motion across the floor in order to guide itself towards him. It met him at the rear of the table, clawing at the toe of his boots, dragging its metallically body onto the front of his shoe. Perplexed, he bent and scooped the creature into his hands. He did not fear for his life any longer…death could come for him at any time, and he did not fear it, as long as she would die too. He did not want her to die here alone.

The creature made no effort to harm him, and nuzzled against the raw flesh of his injured hand. It had a clear body, and mutational, spindly legs. It resembled the vague outline of what would have been a spider, although there was distinct differences between both. It had the fiery, blazing eyes of a sentinel, florescent against the purest white of its shell. He peered at it curiously as it moved across his palm, wondering what it planned to do, and why its kind should see need to enter their doomed ship. After a time he began to see a pattern to its screeching, and the strange gestures it performed. It was jerking towards the door, pointing in the direction of the dark corridor that loomed beyond. It wanted him to follow it.

He loosened his hold on it, allowing it to leap from his palm, and scuttle towards the door, pausing and twisting its body around to ensure that he would follow. He pursued it warily, not for fear of the beast's plans, but of the corridor itself. Without the aid of the electrical lighting system, the dank and moist corridors that emerged ahead of him reminded him of his dream…the haunting woman lying upon Trinity's bed that waited for him at the end. He could hear something dripping…leaking from an engine that had been broken…and the deafening plodding of his boots petrified him. He the skin prickled on the back of his neck, and perspiration gathered in the raw palms of his hands. Yet still he blundered on, stumbling down the ladder to the lower deck when the beast dropped over the edge effortlessly. He slipped towards the last rudder, falling backwards and crying out in shock as his head collided with the sharp metal of the floor bellow. He cursed, forcing himself back to his feet and using the nattering sounds of his creature friend to guide him.

It led him past the sleeping quarters to the lower area, where engines and fuses were kept in check. He gasped in shock upon entry, when he caught sight of what lay beyond the steel door. The dozens of creatures, identical to the one that greeted him at the door to the Med Bay, were swarming about the fuses, scurrying and digging their legs into the sides, tugging frantically at the wires. They had been here all night, ever since he had allowed them to follow him into the ship. He did not know what they planned to achieve, but he knew that it would not do them any good.

"Stop!" He bellowed, swatting blindly at a handful of them working nearby. They fell to the floor but quickly regained their composure, scrambling to return to what they had been doing before. He attempted to stamp on them with the thick souls of his boots, but they were quick, diligent and stubborn. They slid by him, every one avoiding him with ease.

Frustrated, he began to shout and swear, sweeping and swatting at them, knocking them to the floor and then stamping at them with his boots. None were injured, and soon returned to their unknown mission. His hand collided with one and it fell from the surface of a fuse, pulling wires with it. The others hurriedly took its place, and pushed the wires back into place. They did not try to mangle them any further, nor did they attempt to attack him for what he'd done to their companion. It was then that he realized that they were not trying to destroy the ship. They were trying to repair it.

Why they did this, he did not know. He guessed that it was because of the treaty he'd formed between man and machine so recently, and they felt in debt to help him under the orders of their master. That or they wanted him out of their city. Either way it did not matter. They knew what they were doing, and unlike him, had a chance of repairing the ship alone. With their help, he would return to Zion, and Trinity would heal. They would have the peace they so desperately craved…and everything would be as it should be.

He bent to retrieve the fallen creature, and placed it carefully upon its post. It shuddered, stretching its legs and screeching in thanks, before returning to its task. He smiled apologetically, and backed towards the doorframe. As he smiled, he felt the muscles surrounding his lips tighten, as if straining with the effort to change his lip formation. It felt like an eternity had past since he had last smiled.

As he reached the Med Bay once more, he heard a soft whimpering from beyond the door and felt his pace sharpen instinctively, until he broke into a swift run. He burst through the iron door, scanning the large room using the light vibrating off the surrounding objects as his eyes. She was awake, ice blue eyes wide as if she were petrified…something so unlike her. She rocked herself slowly form side to side, clutching the blankets closer to her fragile body…her face still ashen from death.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He whispered, seating himself on the edge of the table. His tone was softer now…his voice no longer hoarse and cracked when he spoke to her…his throat no longer dry and raw. He swallowed, afraid of the lost and distant glaze to her hazed eyes…like crystals melting in an invisible flame. She did not turn to him, but continued to stare intently ahead of her at the open door, whimpering quietly to herself.

"Where were you?" She whispered, voice meek and as distant as her eyes. He did not like it…it wasn't her. "I heard you in my dreams…you were speaking to me…you were afraid…then you were gone, and I felt so alone…"

He sighed deeply, reaching out for her with both arms, grasping her shoulders and pulling her up into his arms. She felt as weak as she sounded…not the strong woman he had once known her to be. She was still ill…violently ill. Trinity never spoke to him like this. She would never admit that she was weak, and that she was afraid of him leaving her alone. If they did not return to Zion soon, he feared she would not last much longer.

"I won't leave you ever again." He swore, whispering into the soft folds of her ebony hair. "I promise I won't, ok?"

She nodded, and then let her body fall limp against his, allowing him to cradle her in his arms. Time past…it did not matter how long…he did not care. But soon she was sleeping again, and the sleep was peaceful. He knew by the calm breath he felt against his chest…her breath was still so cold. He held her tightly, nestling his head into the hollow between her neck and shoulder, breathing in her scent…that overwhelming scent he feared he would never smell again. Finally, he left her to rest again, tucking the mass of blankets around her tightly, and kissing her forehead before he moved away again.

He did not dare to leave the room, for he did not want her to wake alone again. Instead, he took to pacing the room again. He was waiting. Waiting for the ship to be ready. Waiting to return to Zion. Waiting for peace…

He could not remember falling asleep, and he supposed it was a restless slumber, for he did not dream – something he was thankful for. But he remembered waking due to the electronic light that suddenly streamed into the ship. He groaned as he pulled himself into a sitting position from his resting place on the floor, feeling the extra light form as part of the aura seen through his eyes. The ship was no longer masked in darkness, but beamed with brilliant light. The ship had been repaired.

"Whoa," He spoke to himself, hearing the groggy, wheezing sound of his voice echo off the walls of the ship. "Those things work fast."

He heard a whimper, and a stirring sound from the medical table and leapt to his feet, instantly taking to Trinity's side as she woke. A great time must have past since he had allowed sleep to claim him, as it would have taken time to repair the ship. But her face was pastel, lifeless and almost dead. Still her hand was frozen in his own when he found it amongst the pile of blankets that enveloped her. But he was not afraid for her life. The ship was repaired…and now they would return to Zion…to their home, where she would heal, and be healthy again.

"What happened?" She asked, struggling to sit up. He soon realized she could not do this alone, and moved to help her, holding a hand behind her back.

"I'll explain later. All you need to know is that the ship has been repaired, and I'm going to take you back to Zion."

He lifted her, holding her so that she reclined in his arms, and rested her head against his chest. She was barely stronger than the last time he held her, but he assured himself that the healing process would take longer than he first assumed…and that it would get worse before it got better.

He carried her to the ladder…up into the cockpit, and placed her into the torn and bloodstained co-pilot chair, wrapping the blankets around her securely. The safety belt had not been repaired, and he had no choice but to throw it across her loosely, and pray that no accident should occur. He dropped into the chair beside her, taking to the controls. He could hear the soft hum of the engine, and the self-satisfied nattering screeches of the machines. He felt them behind him, and turned to see a dozen of them scurrying outside the doorframe, eyes ablaze with fury. At first, he was confused…wondering why they should be so enraged, before he remembered that they had no wish to return to Zion, and quickly made his way back to the Main Deck and the door of the ship. He wrenched it open with great effort, and watched bemusedly as they swarmed down the ramp and back into 01, nodding in thanks before he closed the door.

As he moved back to the ladder, he became aware of another presence with him in the ship, and the hushed breath of something lurking in the dimly lit corridor. He turned wildly, searching every angle for the source of the upset within him. But the corridor remained empty. Shrugging, he strode back to the ladder and climbed the first rudder, now worried he'd left Trinity alone too long. He had almost reached the top when he heard a deafening screech from below him and cried out in purest alarm, hands slipping from the rudder he held. This time, he did not fall to the ground, but grasped hold of another rudder, stabilizing himself. He turned over his shoulder, hearing the muscles of his neck creak in protest as he gazed down upon the minute outline of the form of a creature. The one who had met with him in the Med Bay before, he recognized, was now scuttling bellow him. He had seen it before when he opened the door to allow the others to leave. But this one had not gone. This one had remained behind.

He lowered himself to the ground, seizing the beast in one hand and clenching it between his fingers. It did not struggle, or attempt to escape. He loosened his hold, nursing it in the palm of his hand. This one was alone…as he had been before he had brought her back. It did not want to leave with its companions…it would not return to 01. It wanted to go to Zion with him.

"You're a runt, aren't you?" He asked it timidly. "You're smaller than the others…I can tell."

It did not screech, but adjusted its position in his hand, gazing up at him with furious red eyes. He smiled, placing the creature on his shoulder before clambering up the ladder. It was a machine…his enemy…a being he had been taught to fear. But he could not fear the beast anymore than he could fear another human. Not because he was aware of the peace he had created between man and machine, but because of the similarities between them. It felt out of place…alone and lost…like something more was out there it desired to see…just like he had felt once. The creature on his shoulder reminded him of Thomas A. Anderson.

She had not moved from her seat, and was sleeping soundly when he returned to the cockpit. He sat in his seat, bringing the ship to life with the touch of a dial. The engine stirred and shuddered, and the ship sprung to life. He smiled to the beast resting upon his shoulder, then creased his brow in concentration. The ship crunched as it pulled away from the side of the tower, as rubble poured into the streets below.

He gaped as the ship turned, and he came to see the vast fields of the machine world that lay before him, sentinels swarming around them on all sides, but ignoring him completely…as if they had intended for this to happen. He knew then that the machines that had repaired his ship had been ordered to do so. If not, the sentinels would have reacted.

He guided the ship across the fields alone, struggling to pilot the ship without assistance for the first time, his head throbbing with pain from the headache that consumed him. He craved for sleep…yearned for rest, but still he pressed on, refusing to use auto-pilot until they had crossed the borders of the machines, and were safely beneath the earth again and on the path to Zion. Even so, he found himself struggling to stay awake…to find hope even when they were returning to their home, and to what he hoped would be a world of peace. Something was not right…something had changed. If it weren't for the constant, peaceful breathing in the chair beside him, he was certain he would have long since lost any sense of hope at all.

(o)

Thanks for reading, please review!


	4. Sea of Humanity

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He was dreaming again. Unlike the last dream, he knew that he was dreaming this time. His vision was in tact once more, and the blind veil had once again been lifted from his eyes. But all he could see was hazy, as if he were walking through fog, and he could not feel his own body, as if he himself did not exist.

This time, the long, dank twisting corners of the dark corridor did not end at his Zion room, but in the crowded streets of Zion itself. All around him were swarming clusters of people, gliding past him like an ocean made up of mankind. They bustled by him, chattering excitedly to one another…their war was over…they were free at last. They had cause to celebrate…to celebrate their own humanity. Though none noticed him. To them, he was not there. They saw him in the same way that he felt his own presence. Unfeeling…empty…soulless. He did not exist.

He had never felt so lost before. He was stranded in a sea of faces he did not know…surrounded by people he did not recognise. He struggled to make his way between them, searching for a face he may know. Anyone…anyone at all. But he could not feel his legs when he moved, and it was as if he'd never taken that step at all.

He was frightened, as he could not move without the use of his own legs. Even if one of the thousands upon thousands of peoples had wanted to lash out at him…if they had been able to see him, he would not have been able to defend himself.

He was almost certain he was looking into the present time, for although the surrounding city was destroyed, the faces of the civilians were swelling with pride and exuberance. The human race had just won their first true victory, and made peace with the machines. For once in their lifetime, they truly could feel safe, and live without fear, doubt or worry.

It was upon gazing around his surroundings, with fear glistening in eyes that did not exist, that he saw her. That woman. He'd seen her before…in his dreams. He knew that cloud of dark hair, and those ringlets that framed her face, dancing and bouncing about her as she walked, glistening and glossy…so free and alive. He had seen that pale complexion of skin before, chalk white against the brightest glimmer of her purest red lips. Lips made from the petals of roses…the source of her overwhelming scent. He could smell again, but all he could smell was her, though her face appeared distant in the crowd.

He caught the glint in her eyes as she moved away through the crowd, joining the sea of humanity. He had never seen her eyes before, as she had been lost in sleep the last time he saw her. Now she was awake he noticed that they were blue, yet not the usual, dull blue he'd seen before many times. They were deeper…the colour of sapphire. They glowed whenever they caught the light, like her very pupils were made from diamonds…or opals, or some other rare stone, though her eyes themselves were the colour of the depths of the ocean. Even after one glance, he was certain that if he was to stare into the depths of her eyes for long enough, he would find himself lost in a sea. Not in the sea of humanity, as he was now, but in a real ocean…the kind many of the surrounding people had never seen before. The glistening perfection that could only be found in a computer generated world could be seen from within her eyes, and her pupils were rare stones, found in the depths of the sea itself.

Although he could no longer see her, he could still feel her. It was as if his body had been returned to him, and he was no longer a fragment of the imagination of his dream. He could almost taste her scent…that overwhelming scent of roses in summer, wet with morning's dew. He could hear the sound of her laughter. He had never heard her laugh before, but he knew that voice could only belong to her. It was light and carefree, just like the laughter of a child. It was as if she had not a care in the world. He remembered her voice from when she'd cried out his name in her sleep, the last time they had met within his dreams. He could feel her too. Her presence was near him, even if she had lost herself amongst the crowd…driving him mad, pushing him towards the limitations of insanity.

Now he could feel things again, he noticed that the use of his physical body had returned to him along with it. That laughter was ringing well above the chattering of the surrounding crowd, like the eerie presence of a ghostly figure. Soon it became the only audible sound, as it was for her scent. He found himself drawn to her, and began to push his way through the crowds of people, following her essence and bringing himself closer to her instinctively. The people still did not notice him, and he was still in inexistence to them. But he did not care about them anymore. She knew he was there…she could feel him with her, lost in that sea of unknown faces. And she was laughing at him…mocking him, purposely hiding from him in the hopes that it would further drive him insane. He knew then that she was cruel, vain, and unlike any other woman he had ever encountered before. She was evil…the child of the devil himself, luring him into the trap she'd set for him. He knew she was trying to tempt him, and to draw him to her. He also knew that it was working.

Each time he caught sight of her within the crowd - a wisp of her hair, or the glint in her eyes, he could feel himself lurch with a sense of inner excitement, only to be eradicated when she again moved away, and was lost once more. Then he would hear the mocking sound of her childish laughter, and cry out in aggravation. No matter how he would try, he could never reach her…never escape the smell of roses.

Finally, she came to him, the fun and excitement of her juvenile game of hide-and-seek finally put to an end. She made her way to him through the sea of people, and he noticed the way she walked…with her own distinct flair and beauty…each step an essence of her pride, reflecting on her own sense of self satisfaction and vanity. Her eyes were wide with cruel delight as she coaxed her head to one side. Her lashes were long and dark, each eyelash in perfect alignment. Her lips were wet, bright against the porcelain of her soft skin. Even after she stopped in front of him, the dark coils of her ringlets bounced around her head. She was like a china doll. A doll that had been carved by the hands of a demon.

"I'm on fire, Neo…" She whispered to him. He could feel her breath upon him…warm and tingling…sending shivers down his spine. It was that same, childish voice. An evil voice. He began to shake his head firmly…violently. He wished she would not talk to him. He wished he had not sought to find her.

"I'm burning, Neo." She continued. He wanted to run, but found that he was transfixed. Her voice was holding him its prisoner. All he could do was shake his head in protest, although to this she paid no heed. "I'm burning from the inside, and it hurts. I can hardly breathe. You're the only one that can stop it, Neo. You're the only one…"

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but found that his lips had been frozen in place. He needed to leave. Each moment he stayed with her, he could feel that she was slowly tearing away at him. Something as simple as her right hand reaching out for him was like death for him. She had long fingers, white and pale like the rest of her body, and well cut nails that were long and sharp. He felt as if they were tearing into his skin.

She was laughing again. Nothing was sacred for her. She wasn't afraid of anything…nothing troubled her spirit. Her laughter was like a dagger being through at him, piercing through his chest. It launched at him like a sudden inburst of pain, sending him into oblivion…

He did not remember when he dream ended, though he did remember waking to find his body dripping with perspiration. His head felt heavy, and the aura of light that was his only source of vision was blurred…the light swimming around him in a mess of brilliant colour. Soon, his sense returned to him, and he was able to push away the last remnants of his dream, and come back into the Real World.

Trinity was sleeping soundly in the chair beside him, her soft and calmly breathing bringing him comfort. At least he knew that her dreams were peaceful, while his were plagued with thoughts and visions he'd rather never know again. To rid himself of his thoughts, he pushed them into the corners of his mind and stared into the undergrowth ahead of him…the old city sewers that had been reduced to nothing but rubble and waste, a useless pile of debris that was used only for the soul purpose as a tunnel for the ships to pass through, mostly undetected by the machines. Now the war was over, perhaps they may be rebuilt, and the humans could live upon the surface world again.

The Logos had been running on a steady course, moving in the direction of Zion for the many hours that he had wasted in sleep. He remembered now, as he came to collect his thoughts, that he had switched the ship to autopilot once he'd ensured they were on the path back to the last city of mankind. Their home…filled with familiar faces and warm greetings. The people would be celebrating…celebrating their own humanity, and their freedom. The others would be freed from the Matrix. The sky would be cleared, and peace would be made with the machines.

The creature was no longer resting on his shoulder, but had moved to the arm of the opposite chair, jabbering and screeching to him, while scuttling around him in an effort to keep himself preoccupied. He smiled blandly, moving from his chair to collect it and place it back on his shoulder once more. The beast screeched at him fondly, then nestled into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. He bent to search for Trinity's hand amongst the mounds of blankets enveloped tightly about her body. Her skin was still frozen. Still dead.

He came to stare for a moment on her closed eyelids…each feature of her face so different to the woman in his dreams. Her scent her own…original and unique only to her…something that was not in comparison to any other he had seen before. She was curled up tightly upon the chair, carried away by her slumber. She was ill, but for now she was at peace. He freed his fingers from her icy grasp and tucked her hand beneath the blankets once more, pushing back wisps of her ebony hair and planting a single kiss upon her forehead. She stirred, then settled again, a smile now creeping into the corners of her lips. Smiling too, he retreated to his seat.

They had reached the end of the sewers now, and passed through the official boarder into Zion itself, the gate looming ahead of them. The communicator had been repaired. He seized it, placing the tattered headpiece over his head.

"This is the Logos on approach, requesting access to Gate 4." He spoke as clearly as he could. He had never taken this task upon himself before, but had seen it done numerous times. He understood what to do, but could only hope that Zion control would answer his call.

There was only silence in reply. He sighed with exhaustion. Zion control had not repaired their communicator. He could not reach them. They would be stranded outside Zion for an eternity. All hope seemed gone from him, and he removed the communicator, ready to set it aside, when he heard the distant sounds of a scrambling, and replaced the communicator hurriedly.

"Logos? But…we heard…" It was a woman's voice. Young and naive…without experience. She would be no help to him, though she was his only hope. No one else would answer his call.

"What you may have heard is a lie. Look, my name is Neo. You've probably heard of me before-"

"Of course I have." Squeaked the girl. "You're the One."

"Yes, I need you to open Gate 4 for me. It's a matter of urgency. I have someone with me who…who is very sick."

"We can't open the gate." She answered apologetically.

"Why not?" He bellowed. The girl was trying his patience.

"Our engines and electricity were disabled during the war. It's a miracle your call even got through to us. We couldn't even see you approaching or - or anything."

"So there's no way to get in or out of Zion until you repair those stupid engines?"

"Yes. I'm terribly sorry." She murmured.

"Well…there must be a way!" He cried. He could hear her whimpering with fear, and was overcome with a sense of sympathy, instantly softening his tone. "Look, someone very important to me is very sick, and if I don't get her to a professional doctor soon, I think she's going to die. We need to get inside Zion as soon as possible, so I really do need you to open the gate."

"Sorry, but losing someone isn't news here. Nearly everyone has lost someone in the war, or is losing someone. The hospital is crowded, and there are hundreds of people standing outside wanting medical attention of their family and friends. Even if we somehow could get you through, there's no guarantee that-"

"Who are you talking to?" Interrupted a gruff voice from the distance. It was the voice of a man…someone he knew, though he could not decide who it did belong to.

"The Logos, Commander Locke." The girl squeaked. "Requesting access through Gate 4."

"The Logos?" Replied Locke.

"Yes. I told them it was impossible, Sir."

There was silence, then a scraping sound could be heard as Locke pulled the communicator from the girl with a sharp, inaudible command. He could hear her moving away into the distance.

"Last I heard this ship was at the command of one named Neo, and not its original captain." Locke finally said.

"Yeah, that's right. I'm Neo." He answered coldly. He had never been fond of Commander Locke.

"And you've returned from the machine city, alive?"

"Obviously." He replied sullenly. "I was the one who ended the war."

"How?"

"It will be explained to you later." He answered impatiently. "Right now, I need you to tell me how I can get inside Zion."

"Like she said, the gates are all down and unoperational. There is no access in or out of Zion with the acceptation of Gate 3."

"Gate 3?"

"It was broken during the war, and is now open for anyone's access. Though I do warn you, the entrance to the gate will be swarming with sentinels. Those bastards are using it as an exit to get back to Zion."

"They're still in the city."

"They're leaving through any available exit they can find. I'm warning you that you may have trouble getting back inside."

He did not care. The sentinels would not attack him now there was peace, and even if this was not so, he still would not care. It could be her only chance for survival. With the coming of each hour, it dawned upon him that it could be her last.

"How far is it to Gate 3?"

He could hear Locke sighing heavily amongst the static created from the almost broken communicator. "About half an hours travel from your current location."

"We'll make it."

"I'll have some men meet you there in half an hours time, then."

The communicator clicked, and then was silent. Not a sound could be heard within the shallowness of the cockpit. He did not like it. It reminded him of the inevitable dark corridor, and what had awaited him beyond.

"Inevitable." He found himself whispering the word aloud. He could see dark sunglasses, masking cold blue eyes…a deep, darkening voice…memories of one that was dead. "It is inevitable."

"What?" Whispered the quiet voice in the chair beside him. A voice that was thin and raspy…hardly stronger than it had been before. Sleep had not done her any good, other than to keep her peaceful and content…something that was never everlasting.

"Nothing." He whispered back. She was struggling to sit up, blinking up at him blearily. "Go back to sleep."

"Something's wrong…" She murmured meekly. She shifted, the blankets loosening and falling from her. She still wore his over-shirt, though now it was stained with her own blood. Her wounds had been bleeding, and the blood had seeped through the bandages, drenching the shirt a darkened red. Her forehead cringed into frown lines as she studied her wounds, her cool blue gaze flickering with pain.

"Don't worry." He stood from his seat and moved to her, tightening the blankets around her once more, hiding her blood beneath them. It hurt him to see them…he couldn't stand the stench of her blood. "We're nearly back at Zion. I'm going to take you straight to the hospital, and they're going to treat you better than I ever could."

"Will you stay with me?" She pleaded. There was something pitiful about the way she spoke…something so unlike her. It made him want to hold her, perhaps to bring the old Trinity back.

"I told you, I'm not going to leave you. Ever." He began to pull the blankets around her again, hoping that somehow it would warm her. "Are you still cold?"

"Yes." She breathed against his face. Even her breath felt icy on the surface of his skin. He did hold her, then, wrapping both his arms around her and pulling her fragile body towards him. It was still her body he held in his arms, and still her soul was there. He could feel it when she pressed against him, burying her head into his neck. But still there was something different…something not right. She felt so cold, and he hoped that somehow he may be able to warm her by keeping her held in his arms. But he could not hold her forever. They needed to return to Zion.

"Your eyes…" She whispered when he pulled away. She freed her hand from the blankets, and he knew that she ran it across the sash she'd tied around his eyes so long ago. He searched and found her hand, taking it in his own. "Will you ever be able to see again?"

"I-I don't know, Trin." He admitted the gruelling truth. "I can still see you now. I don't know why…but I can. Only, I can't see your colour. I can only see the light and energy your body gives off. It's the same with every object." He placed her hand back into the blankets, then ran his own down her right cheek. "I can't see your eyes…"

The creature on his shoulder jumped and landed on her lap, causing her to draw in a shuddering breath. She had not seen it, perched on his opposite shoulder. She still feared it could harm her.

"It's alright." He comforted. "It won't touch you. The ship wouldn't have been repaired if it wasn't for this creature."

"They repaired the ship?" He nodded. "Why?"

"To prove to me that they'd really made peace with us, I suppose. It was an act of friendship." He smiled. "Creature here decided it wanted to come to Zion with us."

She smiled now too, closing her eyes softly and relaxing back into a soft doze, the creature nestling amongst the blankets on her lap, guarding her as it could not sleep itself.

"I'll wake you up when we get there." He whispered, then returned to his seat, taking to the controls and steering the ship towards Gate 3.

The half hour came and went, and he had arrived before he knew it, only to see that Commander Locke's assumptions had been right. The entrance to the gate was crowded with swarms of sentinels, swooping and screeching to one another, tentacles propelling them through the air, their eyes slits of red fire, burning and ablaze with fury. They saw the ship, and simply ignored it, not attacking him, and yet not giving him the right of way. He remained still, watching them leave until he could wait no longer, and pushed his way through them, driving the ship to the gate. The sentinels moved aside just enough to allow him to pass and soon he had squeezed past them, and proceeded into the long awaited return to the last city of mankind.

The docks had been destroyed. The once proud dome that had housed the ships, and had been littered with the bustling of soldiers and workers alike was now littered with the bodies of the dead. Debris was everywhere, the walls cracked and chipped away, shredded to pieces by the wrath of the enemy. Still the sentinels were leaving, pushing their way through the destruction they had created, leaving behind the civilians to crawl up from the underground of the city and mourn for their dead. The people flocked the dock in swarms, searching the crumpled mess of what had once been part of their home to find those they had lost. They were not celebrating any longer, nor were they eagerly discussing the outcome of the war as he had seen in his dream. They were weeping, wallowing and crying, retrieving the mangled bodies of what had once been their family and friends.

It was the sea of humanity at its worst.

There was no place to land the ship, other than the broken, crumpled mess of what might have once been a circular dock. He drove the ship towards it, his raw palms producing sweat that stained the controls with the effort of the task. Never before had he docked a ship without any assistance.

The mourning people gazed up at him with tearstained faces, watching as the ship came to land, their faces set with expressions of perplexity and awe. The ship came to rest, and shuddered as it finally landed with a thud, crunching into the ruined dock and causing it to sink further into destruction. He did not care, as long as it would remain stable until Trinity had left the ship.

He moved back to her chair. She was already half awake, blinking groggily, eventually smiling when she saw him. His arms ached with the effort it took to lift her into his arms, his head swimming with pain and exhaustion. Creature leapt onto his shoulder, its long, spindly legs gripping into the fabric of his under-shirt. She felt light, reclining in his arms…like a child might feel as she clung to her parent, head pressed into his chest. Even so, he staggered, regaining his balance before he carried her down to the main deck, and to the main entrance to the ship.

As promised, three soldiers waited for him by the dock, standing solemnly with their hands clasped together in front of them, their dark eyes alight with mild surprise when they saw the woman that rested in his arms. He ignored them, uncaring of their opinion. Surely, they would know that she would never allow him to carry her this way if she were not sick. They appeared sick themselves, with slashes of blood across their face and wrists. These were meant to be those who had received the least injuries at battle.

"Listen, she's not well." He told them, reaching the base of the ramp of the ship and coming to their side. "I know the hospital is crowded, but do you think there could be any way of getting her to see someone? I…I don't know if she'll make it if she doesn't get some medical help soon."

"W-We could try." Replied the baffled leading solider. "I'm sure that they'll make room for her up there, for the sake of the One."

"Thank you." He smiled and began to move away to the hospital, but was immediately stoped by a hand on his shoulder, drawing him back.

"Sorry, Sir." Said the leading solider from behind him. "But I can't let you go with her. Not yet, anyway."

"Why not?" He scowled. Creature screeched from his shoulder, sending the soldiers into alarm.

"B-Because Commander Locke has requested that you report straight to the Council and himself to deliver an explanation to your actions in regards to ending the war, as you claim to have done single headedly." It sounded like a speech rehearsed by heart…perfected for the moment they would meet at the dock.

"I wasn't alone when I ended the war." He whispered, staring down at her. She lay, reclining in his arms, her eyes were open, though distant…as if her thoughts had carried her far away from where she was, her head still buried into his chest. He looked into the eyes of the soldiers again, as theirs lightened with sudden understanding. "Look, I need to…I need to be with her right now. Is there anyway I could report to Locke and the Council later?"

The solider firmly shook his head. "It's your duty to explain all that has happened, so we can understand how it has come that we have ended the war. We'll take care of her while you're gone. I can almost guarantee she'll have a hospital bed once I tell them she's related to you."

He hesitated, but nodded. There was no way of escape. He would need to brake his promise to her. She neither spoke nor moved as he placed her in the arms of the solider. He carried her away from him, held out from his embrace, as if he were afraid she'd lash out at him…like she would have done, if she'd been well. The solider remembered the old Trinity…he could not see that something had changed.

With one final glance, he left her, following two soldiers through the sea of humanity.

(o)

A/N: I haven't had time to edit this, so I apologize again for any spelling or grammar errors.

Thanks for reading, please review!

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	5. Return to Zion

Mystic Kira: Although Neo may love Trinity, he also understands his duty to his people, as the One. So it was difficult for him to choose between going to see the Council, and then staying with Trinity. Although it is obvious which one he would prefer to do, he decided to go with what was the right thing to do not for himself, but for the benefit of his race by explaining his actions and not leaving everyone in the dark. Now that Trinity was in capable hands, he knew that there was no reason why he should delay his duty to the Council and Zion. Besides, as a writer, I needed to get him to the Council as soon as possible. Hopefully this chapter makes things clearer. Thank you so much for your opinion!

Kylewin: Heh heh…you raise and interesting point. I forgot about the whole blind thing towards the end there. You see, I wrote the entire last chapter in my mum's office while she was working, and I was pretty zoned out then and hardly thinking about what I was writing. A pretty lame excuse, but it's the only one I have. This blind thing is getting really annoying! Although I will try to fix things up now. Thanks for your review!

Thank you also to everyone else who reviewed the last chapter. Constructive criticism is always welcomed, as is any suggestions for ways I can improve my writing or a character. I want to get this as on-target as possible. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

5

The Council's chambers had been destroyed. Like everything else, they had been reduced to a pile of useless rubble and debris, a searing mound of metal that could no more be reused than it could be pieced together. Still, unlike other areas of the once proud-standing city, the wreckage gave off an air of belonging to something that was once a place of great importance…a place of eloquence and control.

The soldiers led him down the ruined, metallic corridors two strides ahead of him, continuously glancing at him over their shoulders, and he could read uncertainty and astonishment in their auras, as clearly as he could feel remnants of the brutality and savageness of the war that had been conquered mere hours before. Still a few stragglers who had been the last to learn of the end of the war crawled from the crevices and cracks of the underworld of the city where they had been hiding, bringing with them crying children and carrying the burden of the war on their shoulders. Their lost eyes poured into him as he passed them…eyes of sorrow, depression, and grief. They had been led astray by lost hopes. Like him, they had believed the end of the war to be a joyous thing. They had imagined celebration – a coming together in thanksgiving, reconciliation and inner peace – with images of dancing, drinking and love making…but the reality was starkly different. There was no cause to celebrate when they had lost so much. How could they be at peace, when this was no longer, and never would be, the city they had always known it to be? Eyes of men, women and children alike burned into his back as he drifted away from them, looking to him as their answer…their redemption. Surely, they must have thought, he would find cause for them to celebrate in such a time of oppression? But he was human too. He felt as soulless and empty as they did. He could bring them no answers, nor any way of finding the peace he had shaped for them. Not when he had lost as much as they had. Now he had fulfilled his prophecy, and brought an end to the war, his purpose was as unclear as theirs was. The future was no longer in his hands.

The soldiers' continuous glancing had grown as persistent as the gazes of the people, except that their eyes were not alive with sorrowful mourning. They were confused, and uncertain…almost untrusting….uneasy in his presence. He had forgotten, momentarily, that he was still a blind man, and unbeknownst to them had been using the aura of light that radiated from everything around him to guide him across the debris left in the trail of the war. They were not to know that he could see, even when a tattered fragment of cloth had been wrapped around his damaged eyes…eyes that were dry with the cracked, scabbed shell of blood.

The Council were in the temple, where many had taken refuge. Outside he could smell the foul stench of human remains, though inside was only the bitter taste of perspiration and fear. The people were shouting, clamoring and screeching, seeking shelter from the destruction the war had left behind. One man stood above them on a risen platform, perhaps dressed in what had once been the flowing robes of the Council. The light told him that he looked upon an elderly man…a face he had known before.

"Be patient, Zion! We know that many of you have lost homes in the war. Others may have lost family and friends, while others still seek to find relatives a place in a hospital bed. We understand, as you must, that this is indeed, not the end of our war. It is merely the beginning."

The crowd's clamor became a turbulent murmur of acknowledgement and perplexity. The old man went on. "There is still plenty to be done. We must seek to find the machine leader, and sign a treaty, declaring peace once and for all. We must rebuild our cities both above and below the earth. But most importantly, we must ensure the destruction of the Matrix, and that the rest of our people who still may live there will be found and brought into the Real World."

The crowd had stilled, and only a few hushed whispers echoed in the smooth, hollow caves of the temple. The very earth itself seemed to have become engrossed by the words of the elderly man. It was a controlled silence…a deathly silence. The old man had their attention, though he did not so soon give them his own. His eyes had traveled to the doorframe, his vision wandering past the soldiers. Then the old man's gaze locked on to Neo. In one silent expression of understanding, he felt as if the old man was pouring into his soul, digging beneath his skin and finding a link to the profound connection they had once shared. It was by a glance that the old man could determine what had happened, and how the war came to an end. It was then that he knew that the old man could only be Councilor Harman.

"For now, we must ensure the safety of each and every civilian", he continued. "Tonight, those who have lost their homes will take refuge in the temple, while those that have not will return to their homes. Tomorrow, every man and woman who is capable of work will assist in rebuilding our city, bigger and better than it ever was before. Until we can find a way of making more, there will be no fresh supplies of food. I urge everyone to ration their supplies wisely between themselves and their children. If we are ever to truly put an end to our struggle, and have the peace we humans have dreamed of for hundreds of years, we must do it together!"

A great cheer of approval rung out across the temple, and echoed into the ruined halls that lay beyond, the sound rebounding off the crumbling waste of the city. Harman stepped down from the platform, his essence of light then masked by the towering pillars of earth, steel and stone as he departed with the rest of the Council, signaling to the soldiers as he went.

He did not notice the soldiers beckoning him forward until the entire Council had disappeared, and the deathly silence had been replaced by the constant chattering of the crowds. A path was cleared between them as he was led through the vastness of the temple, filled with faces he barely recognized…faces he did not know. A sensation of paralyzed fear overcame him as he was reminded subtly of his dream.

He had never seen the temple in this way before. When he had last been here, the dirt floor had been transformed into mud, which sloshed up the sides of the garments of the youths who danced in the center of the space, celebrating their own humanity and what they hoped would soon be an end to their war. He remembered standing at the back…the smothered, clammy security of the place…the presence of many who were familiar to him, and of those who knew him not only by name, but by sight and appearance as well. She had been there, too. He remembered the way her hair would fall out freely and untamed across her delicate face, wisps of eyelashes framing the domineering blue eyes. He remembered the way her body had felt when he pressed it against his own…strong and free-spirited, each curve of her figure a reflection of her pride…so unlike she was now.

Now the temple he had known was gone. None danced or celebrated their salvation on the dirt floor. There was no physical expression of emotion. When he passed them, they only talked in hushed whispers between one another, glancing at him uncertainly. Many of them did not believe, though everyone in Zion knew him by name. He began to wish for a familiar face…perhaps for the reemergence of Harman, or the sudden appearance of another fellow believer…he did not want to be left alone.

There was a hidden room behind the risen platform which was seldom used, unless all other options had been forsaken. It was no more than a cave that had been blocked away from the main temple by the metallic barrier of a steel door. Beyond it, a table had been carved out from the stone, and nothing more. It was there that the Council waited for him, and demanded he tell them his story.

"Here he is. Our savior, the one who _supposedly_ ended our war," said one. He was unsure if the Councilor spoke with sarcasm or not.

"Stand here, Neo." The Head Councilor gestured to the place directly in front of her. He moved to it swiftly, without the assistance of the soldiers, much to the Council's surprise, though none made comment that he was blind, and yet seeing.

"We're waiting on a few others to be found and brought to us before we can begin," explained another. "It should only be a few minutes."

The words had only parted from her lips, when the door was thrown open once more. The first to enter was Commander Locke, his lips twisted into a menacing scowl, the muscles of his dark face tightening around his eyes. He could see that the man's face was streaked with a fine line of red blood that was not his own, his clothes disheveled, and yet not tattered or torn. Locke was followed by a familiar, welcoming face. Another ally in a sea of distress. The warming face of his Captain…his friend…his brother, and his father. A rush of relief rushed over him, bound by the presence of two he knew he could trust. Harmann and Morpheus would believe him, no matter how ridiculous his story would sound.

"Now that everyone is here, we can begin." The Head Councilor cast a darkening glance over all that filled the room. "First of all, we must understand how you, Neo, came to know what you needed to do."

"I was told by the Oracle." He answered promptly.

"Why you were going into the Matrix when a war was at hand is beyond me. Nevertheless, we'll get to that later. What did the Oracle tell you?" Said another Councilor.

"With all due respect, Councilor, I'd like to point out that it was not Neo's fault that he found himself trapped in the Matrix on the eve of battle. He was lured in there when my ship was destroyed, as you already well know, when he took it upon himself to save us from an oncoming sentinel attack which we were defenseless from. Because of this, a program from the machine world known as the Merovingain was able to trap him inside a place which was not part of this world, or of the Matrix. It was a place that was in between both, controlled by a program known as the Trainman. He wouldn't have been saved from there if it weren't for my Second-in-Command, Trinity, who struck a…a deal with the Merovingain. Once we had managed to bring Neo back into the Matrix, he decided that he wished to see the Oracle before we were to return to the Real World."

"That's all very well, Captain Morpheus." The Head Councilor frowned. "You have told us this story before, when you returned to Zion with Captains Niobe, Roland and their crews. What we would like to know is, first of all, how was Neo able to separate his mind from his body without physically plugging himself into the Matrix?"

In the past, he had found that he was afraid to address the Council…driven by some childish fear of speaking to unknown peoples. But now things were different…he felt older, and experienced in the presence of the Council, and he did not fear them. He had addressed them so many times in the past, and now that he had fulfilled his purpose, and achieved what was he was meant to do, something as trivial as speaking to the Council seemed childish and idiotic in itself. He began to speak, but Morpheus intervened.

"Separating your mind from your body without assistance is possible, Councilor. If you remember, there was a kid we unplugged sometime ago, who managed to do just this. He was somehow able to unplug himself from the system. It is still not known how, though we can now be sure that it can be done."

Morpheus did not look at him, and although he knew that they were on the same side, he could not help but wonder why not. Perhaps his captain wished not to address him until they could be alone to speak. Whatever the reason, he decided not to be bothered by it.

"The Oracle told me that my power as the One stretched beyond the world of the Matrix, and that was why I was able to stop those sentinels from attacking, and why I was able to enter the virtual world without jacking in. As Morpheus said, it is possible to separate my mind from my body without assistance, as Kid had done. So this could also be a reason why I was able to jack in…I don't really know."

"Why should it matter anyway?" barked a harsh, male voice to his right. "Isn't the reason why we have gathered here to discuss how Neo was able to end the war? What does this have to do with anything?"

"Careful, Commander," warned Harmann. "Although these facts may seem irrelevant, it is important for us to understand everything that has happened. Though you do raise an interesting point. It doesn't matter _how_ it happened. All that matters is that it _did _happen. Now Neo, will you care to explain how it came about that you ended the war once you had returned to the Real World, and you and Trinity took the Logos to the machine's city?"

"Well, once we arrived on the outskirts of 01, we were immediately attacked by sentinels." He made a point of keeping his eyes fixed on Harmann. It was easier to talk to a familiar, welcoming face. "Trinity and I flew the ship up over them, and then came hurtling back to the ground. We crashed into the side of the city, and Trinity……Trinity was instantly killed."

"That's not true!" interrupted a voice. It belonged to one of the soldiers who had led him into the room. "I-I saw Trinity just before, when we met you at the dock! She didn't look well…but she was definitely still alive. You even said so yourself."

"Quiet!" Harmann hushed. "I'm sure he'll get to explaining this later. Go on, Neo."

He didn't want to tell them anymore. He did not want to remember the brief period of time in which he'd had to live without her, let alone tell them about it. It was a time in his life which he wanted to forget…the memory only comforted by the fact that she was alive again now.

"I-I left Trinity's body in the ship and went into the city, where I met with their leader. Somehow…I-I knew what I needed to do to end the war when I arrived there. The Oracle hadn't told me what needed to be done…but somehow…somehow I just knew what to do, as if driven by instinct. I struck a deal with them…a pact."

"What kind of pact?" asked another Councilor.

"I told them that I could destroy the program Smith, who had by this time taken complete control of the Matrix. If I was able to do this, then they had to take their armies out of Zion and make peace with mankind once and for all. They were desperate to regain control of the Matrix, so they agreed. Obviously, I succeeded."

"But you said that your ship had crashed. How is it then possible that you were able to return to Zion?" asked the Head Councilor.

"It was because of this." He held out his hand, and Creature fell into his palm, gripping into his skin in support. It screeched, and many drew back in surprise, while others peered at him with interest. "I guess because we now had peace with the machines, they must have felt that they were inclined to assist me by sending these creatures to repair the ship. This one wanted to remain with me when the others retreated back into their city."

"It's not…harmful to anyone, is it?" asked a Councilor warily.

"Now we've made peace, none of the machines are dangerous to us anymore. Who knows? Maybe soon we'll be able to live on the surface world."

"Hang on there, Neo. Let's just take this one step at a time," said Harmann. "So what happened once the machines repaired your ship?"

"Well, before they'd even started, I went back to the cockpit and found Trinity. That's when I remembered that the Oracle told me that my powers as the One stretched beyond the world of the Matrix, so I thought that it may be possible for me to bring her back to life. I'd done it once before, so I figured that it was possible. But when she was alive again…something was different. She was sick. I flew the ship back to Zion by myself while she rested. When I arrived, I made sure she was taken straight to the hospital before I came here."

The Council was silent…not a sound penetrated the stillness of the room. He stared down at the dirt of the floor, pawing at the soil with the toe of his boot. Outside, he could hear the distant sounds of people, shouting…mourning…praying…crying. Now was not the time to celebrate. Maybe soon, once the death and destruction of war had worn away, then there would be the dancing, drinking and love making he had expected to find when he returned. But not now…not today.

"Neo, what happened to your eyes?" He found that the Head Councilor was peering at him from her seat.

A soldier nodded. "We noticed that while we were leading him in here, Councilor. He was able to walk without our assistance…as if he could see, even when there's obviously something wrong with his vision."

"While we were flying towards the machine city, we were ambushed by Bane, who was being possessed by Smith, who had somehow learnt to copy himself onto other files, including that of those who had been unplugged. I don't know for sure, but I can guess that Bane must have been attacked by Smith while he was inside the Matrix. Smith must have copied himself onto Bane. Once this happened, Bane himself became nonexistent, and Smith took over his entire being. So Bane, as Smith, must have returned to the Real World with the intentions of having me killed."

"Bane…" Harmann pondered. "Didn't he serve Captain Ballard?"

"That's right, Councilor," replied Morpheus.

"But wasn't Ballard's ship one that was sent to the mainlines to counterattack the oncoming machines just before the war began?" Locke waited until Morpheus had nodded in response. "But…but there were no survivors after that attack! I sent ships out there looking for them. They reported that they hadn't found anyone, so Bane must have been dead, along with the rest of his crew."

"Bane was the only survivor, Commander. After the machines broke through Zion's forces, they started digging again, leaving the bodies of the dead in their wake. Roland's crew made a pass to look for survivors, and found one alone."

"Bane snuck onto the Logos once Trinity and I had left the others behind, and started to attack us. During the fight, I learnt that it wasn't Bane inside that body anymore, but Smith instead. He was the one who must have triggered the EMP before the others could get in position, and so it was his fault that so many were killed. That's why he was the only survivor. I eventually managed to defeat him, but not before he had taken away my eyesight."

"Then how is it that you can still see?" asked the Head Councilor.

"I don't know…I…somehow I can see the light radiating off every object. It's like every object, alive or not, has its own individual source of light, and that's what I can see. Kind of like how I am able to see the code when I'm inside the Matrix."

"So what happens now?" said Locke, after a long, silent pause.

"Now I guess we'll take things one day at a time." Harmann sighed heavily. "Neo, I suggest you report straight to the hospital and get some proper medical attention for those eyes."

He smiled, "Thank you. I suppose tomorrow we'll start working on repairing Zion?"

"As soon as possible. We can't keep half the city's population in the temple forever," replied the Head Councilor, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. "Now get going, and take a soldier with you."

He nodded, too overwhelmed with exhaustion to remind them that he did not need escort. The walk from the small, hidden room at the back of the temple to the hospital seemed endless, and the relentless pounding of the tattered boots of the soldier behind him ripped through his concentration, disturbing his thoughts. By the time he arrived his head was throbbing, and his eyes stung from the dirt and the dust that had managed to slip by the ruined cloth that was still wound around them tightly.

He did not need the use of the light he used as his vision to tell him when he'd reached the hospital after the never-ending walk through the ruins of the city…past thousands upon thousands of whining children and devastated adults alike, all mourning for the death of the men and women who had fought at war. He could hear the cries of the crowds of civilians that flocked the street outside the entrance of the hospital, holding the wounded in their arms, screaming and shouting…wailing and weeping…seeking attention for those they had almost lost. He did not look at the mangled faces of the injured, or the tearstained cheeks of their families and friends, but pushed his way through them, keeping his vision locked on what lay ahead of him. The soldier behind him was mumbling…something about waiting until the crowd had moved, or at least trying to disguise his identify. He realized later that he should have listened, as it was not long before someone recognized him. Even with the crusted rim of dried blood around his eyes, they knew that he was the One. They began to shout at him, cry out his name…beg him to watch over the dead and the dying. He did not answer them, nor did he look at them. He knew that if he did, his heart would be filled with pity, and he would find himself at a loss. Not all could have the medical attention they deserved.

The nurses at the hospital entrance admitted him without hesitation, and he was beset with a scent of cleanliness, and of purity. Doctors and nurses alike rushed by him, carrying medical equipment and shouting to one another, their white robes streaked with human blood…eyes wide as if they'd set them on something unsightly. None paid him any heed, their minds focused on what was at hand. It wasn't until the soldier standing behind him tapped a nearby woman on the shoulder timidly, and she whirled around and regarded him, that his presence was felt.

"You'll be wanting to see a doctor, sir?" she asked him. He did not respond. Already he could feel that Trinity was there…somewhere in amongst the halls of dying patients, eyes stained with the pain of war. She was dying too…slowly…softly…painfully.

"Y-Yes," stuttered the soldier. "About his eyes."

"Of course." The nurse answered promptly. She took hold of his arm. "Let me show you to a bed. I can't guarantee that a doctor will be able to see you immediately, what with all the patients we are tending to now that the war is over. But I'm sure one will be with you soon. After all, you are the One."

He thought of the many thousands waiting outside the entrance to the hospital…the many that would never be given medical help, and would die in the crying arms of their loved ones. He thought of how he could see, even when blind, and that the pain in his eyes was nothing compared to the pain in his heart when he remembered the dying. He thought of how he was admitted to the hospital without question, as soon as his identity was known. He knew that it easily could have been he who was out there, crying with the rest…holding Trinity against him as she died.

"A woman was taken in here earlier," he suddenly heard himself say, startling the nurse. "She was very sick…she needed help. I sent her here with a soldier, and told him to make sure that she got treatment immediately-"

"Trinity." The nurse interrupted. "Yes, she got in all right. Once the soldier with her told us who you were, she was taken straight to a bed and a doctor was brought to her. I didn't see her after that, so I'm not sure what's happened to her since. I'm sure you'll see her soon enough. Once we've fixed you up, we'll take you straight to her."

"I really don't need help. There are plenty of people out there who could use the bed you're offering to me. I can wait a while before I get any medical attention. You may as well just not give the bed to me."

The nurse was stunned for a moment, but shortly recovered with a shake of her head. "You're the One, are you not?" He nodded slowly, before she continued. "Then of course we are going to make you our first priority! Think about it…the war wouldn't be over if it wasn't for you, or at least that's the general rumor that's been spreading throughout the city. I've never been a believer in the prophecy myself, but this changes everything, for both those who have always believed in you and those who haven't. We all owe you our lives now, believers or not. This is the least we can do."

"But…" He trailed away. There was no use arguing. And he knew that even if he were to give up his bed in hope that it could be useful to another, that it would only help one of the dying. There were many more out there who would still need help. And it would be help that they could never receive.

(o)

A/N: Yes, this story is very depressing, in a sense. And it probably will get worse before it gets better. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review!


	6. Healing

KyLewin: Like you mentioned in your last review, although the scene with the Council was important, it was simply repeating a whole lot of stuff you already knew. Therefore I wanted to spend as little time on that scene as possible so as not to bore the reader to death. That is why the report Neo gave the Council wasn't all that detailed. As for the thing with Morpheus – that will be explained in this next chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

Trinity-Neo6: cough cough I must admit that I am a hopeless speller. Thanks for the correction – I'll try to remember to fix it up in the future.

6

He was in the Matrix – or at least he dreamt he was. Only the Matrix could generate the artificial beauty he saw before him, and yet make it realistic at the same time. The distant, pastel blue sky was cloaked by the many drifting white clouds, hovering above him like the wings of angels. The air was balmy…salty, with a gentle breeze wafting up to the park from the nearby beach. The ocean was so close to him that he could hear the shrieking laughter of children playing in the sunlight that streamed down on them between the clouds, and the sounds of the water lapping on the sandy shores. All was so tranquil…so beautiful it had to be real, and yet it wasn't at the same time.

It did not take him long to spy her, seated on a worn bench beneath a large oak tree. He had almost expected to find her there…expected to see her arrive from nowhere at any given time. The dappled sunlight cast shadows on the surface of her porcelain skin, highlighting the long, dark lashes that framed her eyes. Blue eyes …a blue as deep as the evening sky in winter, or the depths of the very ocean itself, her pupils large opal stones that had been cast into the water.

She hadn't seen him yet, for her eyes were fixed intently on the book she held in her hands, clutched with long, deathly fingers. But he was certain she knew he was there, for a small smile played in the corners of her prominent red lips. An evil smile…a cynical smile. She was a temptress. She held nothing sacred.

Dark coils of long, black ringlets swept across her face, shrouding it from view. The corners of the pages of her book flapped in the wind. Finally, she looked at him. Finally, her eyes of sapphire met with his own. With a shake of her head, the hair flew out of her face and cascaded down to her back. Her crimson lips were wet and bright against her china skin as she smiled a small, half smile. She seemed to beckon him…call him forward silently…will his feet to move.

His feet were bare. He could feel the grass below him…long, thick and spongy. Untamed as it swayed in the afternoon breeze. He drew closer to her, though this time she did not try to run away, abandoning her old, childish games of hide-and-seek. Not once did her eyes flicker from his own. Their vision was locked…captivating…manipulating…enchanting. The scent of winter roses became stronger with each step, until it had consumed him completely. Each time he inhaled it he felt himself slowing creeping towards the path of insanity.

He had never been so close to her in her waking moments before, and now he could tell that she was younger than he had first thought she was…possibly in her early twenties. He could see each curve and line of her body. Her large, shapely hips. Her abundant breasts, rich, round and full beneath the flimsy material of the gown she wore. An unknown force drove him to sit down beside her – the bench was cold and hard beneath him. He was so close to her now that he could taste her hot breath. A wisp of her hair brushed against his cheek.

He knew he shouldn't be with her, even in his dreams. Trinity…what about Trinity? There were so many questions he needed to ask this woman. Who was she? Where had she come from? How did she find her way into his dreams? But like all dreams, he could not control his actions…his feelings…his thoughts. He was merely a spectator to these visions, and could no more control what happened than the rolling waves of the sea.

She laughed in her cruel and childish way. Mocking him, and yet drawing him closer to her at the same time. What sort of woman could do that to him? How could he hate her, and yet love her at the same time? She leant her body against him, pressing her head into his shoulder. It was the first time they had ever touched…she was softer than anything he could imagine.

"Yes…that's it." She whispered, though still her voice was young and foolish. Her eyes had closed softly, her lashes long, thin and dark, brushing the top of her cheekbone. Her lips parted slightly…ever so slightly. He watched her quietly, listening to the sounds of her rhythmic breathing, feeling the beating of her heart as she nestled into his unwilling embrace. "Extinguish the flames…ease the burning in my body. I need you, Neo. Only you can do it for me. You need to be in love with me…you have to be in love with me."

He told himself that if he were not bound by the dream, he would have pulled away…walked away and waited for it to end. But he wasn't so sure if this was true. When she pressed her body against his, everything else was almost forgotten. Her words entranced him…hypnotized him. She was a gypsy…child of the devil…a china doll carved by the hands of a demon…

It ended as abruptly as it had begun. Soon, he found himself falling through swirling darkness. The touch of her body was lost from him, and had been replaced by the warmth of blankets laden atop him, binding him to an unknown bed. He twitched his fingers, testing to ensure that he truly was awake, proving to himself that the dream had been lost from him.

He knew that something was different even before he had opened his eyes. Once he became aware that he was no longer dreaming, he realized that the crusted sensation of dry blood had somehow been removed from his eyes. Slowly, he cracked them open, expecting to see only the light aura that radiated off each object as he had forced himself to become accustomed to. Instead, everything was suddenly overcome with a hazy glaze of brilliant white light before objects came into focus. He saw colour…he saw lights…

"I can see." He whispered. His voice was cracked and dry, and yet awestruck and bewildered at the same time.

"You've been able to see since the operation." Said a deep, male voice to his right. "You've been out cold for three hours."

Of course. He remembered now. The operation…the doctors and nurses swarming about…a sense of uncertainty. He shifted in his place, the blankets tucked in around him so tightly he was forced to remain strapped to the bed. He turned his head, only to see that the voice he had heard belonged to none other than Morpheus. His captain, father, and friend had been sitting beside his bed, waiting patiently for his waking. A rush of gratitude claimed him, for he was grateful that he had not woken alone. But at the same time, he could only wonder why Morpheus refused to look at him, but preferred to sit on the very edge of his seat and stare intently at the floor, hands clasped together and resting on his knees.

"It worked, then?" He asked, his voice returning to normal. "I remember...there was a lot of doubt about the success of the operation."

He heard a screech and peered around him for its source, before he noticed Creature sitting on the chair's armrest, nestled into his discarded old shirt. He felt the flimsy material of the white medical robe he wore beneath the blankets with his thumb and forefinger.

"Luckily, it did work." The other man smiled, though his eyes remained on the floor. "How are you feeling, Neo?"

"I feel fine." He answered truthfully. His headache was gone. His raw hands cleansed and bandaged where they needed to be. The bruises covering his body had been tended to. More importantly, he was no longer blind, though he was certain his vision would never be as sharp as it had been before.

"Trinity," He murmured. Fear swept over him…had she died while he had been sleeping? No, he could still feel her…still sense her presence somewhere in the building. But where? "Where is Trinity?"

"Trinity is fine. I came to see her before I came here. Her condition is stable, though they want her to stay here a while longer so that they can keep her under observation. The doctors have never encountered a patient who has risen from the dead before. They're going to want to ensure that she is at her best before they let her go."

"I-I need to see her." He said weakly, wiggling free from the blankets and pushing himself into a sitting position. The dream had frightened him. He had to see her…had to remind himself how much he loved her.

"No, Neo." Morpheus's voice cut into him sharply, holding him back. Why wouldn't he allow their eyes to meet? "I promise you can see her later. For now, you need to stay here, at least until a doctor arrives and tells you that you're in a good enough condition to leave."

He shook his head firmly in protest. "No. I need to see her." He repeated. He began to move again, desperate to free himself from the bed. Firm arms gripped his shoulder, holding him back. In that brief moment, their eyes were forced to meet, and he saw that there was something hostile…something uncertain in the other man's eyes. Almost untrusting. He did not attempt to move again.

"There's something different in you." Morpheus began slowly, settling back into his chair. He no longer tried to avoid eye contact. "I don't know what it is, but I could tell the moment I walked into the chamber at the back of the temple and saw you. Something's changed. Tell me, how did you defeat Smith? Did he attempt to take over your body?"

"Y-Yes." He stuttered, finally understanding why the other man had been avoiding him. "That was how I defeated him. Once my body had been joined to him, the machines were able to destroy the Smiths through me, seeing as I was connected to him."

"Then you should be dead." Morpheus reasoned. "Destroying Smith through you would destroy you as well."

"I know." He replied. "But the last time I went to see the Oracle, she told me that I was meant to be dead when I touched those sentinels, but I wasn't ready for it, and there still was something else I was meant to do. I guess it's the same now. I couldn't die, because there was something else I needed to do before I could."

"Did any part of Smith…" Morpheus trailed away. "…is there any way that a part of him could have rubbed off onto you?"

"Possibly." He pondered. With all that had happened, he hadn't thought to consider this. "But I would know if it did, wouldn't I? I would feel it."

"I suppose." Morpheus was clearly unconvinced. "I just have the feeling that…something has changed."

"A lot has changed, Morpheus." He sighed. He thought of his dreams…wondered if the angst he suffered from had become apparent on his face. But he was not ready to discuss them with anyone, at least not until he understood them. He knew, from experiences in the past, that the things he dreamed of had a habit of coming true.

Morpheus opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something more, but the chance never came. The curtains that had been surrounding the bed were suddenly pulled back, and a doctor strode into the room. All was at once silent.

"Okay." The doctor said slowly, once the examination was complete. "Looks like you're good to go, Sir. Unless there's any problems you'd like to speak about."

He hated it when others called him 'Sir'. It was a formal title, used by those who held him in respect, and believed in him. He loathed that kind of attention…didn't need their patronizing. Not now, when he had fulfilled his purpose. Would they still call him 'Sir' when they realized there was nothing more he could do for them, now that he had completed what he had set out to do? But if he had survived when he was meant to have died…if he still had some purpose to fulfill, would he find himself with _more _publicity than he had now?

"No." He eventually replied. "There's nothing else. But, could you tell me where I can find Trinity?"

"Of course, Sir." The doctor nodded. "I'll call for a nurse to escort you."

The doctor left, and he was alone with Morpheus once more. Again, the captain had taken to avoiding his eyes, and seemed to be fascinated by his large, dark hands that were resting at his sides.

"Maybe you'll tell me what is different in you the next time we meet." The other man nodded politely. "I'll be seeing you later."

Morpheus peeled back the curtain and was gone, leaving him alone only for a few minutes in which he changed from the white medical robe he had been dressed in, to the old clothes that had been draped over the chair Morpheus had been sitting on. He'd only just slid his over-shirt on and allowed Creature to climb up onto his shoulder when the nurse finally arrived.

"Sorry for the delay, but we have been busy, as you know. I'm going to take you straight to Trinity's bed, as you requested." She beckoned him forward. "Please, follow me."

The nurse drew back the curtains, revealing the rest of the ward that lay beyond it. Each bed had been filled with a solider, moaning or gasping in pain. Some lay unattended to, their clothes stained with the glistening red blood of an open wound. Others had been treated, and were recovering from the rude shock of their operation…suffering from the memory of war. The nurse led him out of the ward as quickly as possible, and into a corridor outside. Everywhere, the sound of someone crying out in agony could be heard.

"There's a bed free in ward 101." The nurse informed a passing co-worker. "You can take an extra person."

"People are still waiting for beds, then," he said.

The nurse nodded. "Some have given up, but the majority are willing to fight it out to the bitter end. Most of them will never get the medical attention they deserve, because there simply isn't enough beds or staff to tend to them all. But we're doing the best that we can."

Trinity's ward was on the other side of the hospital complex, and the walk seemed endless. He reminded himself that each step took him further towards her. Closer…closer…closer…until the nurse eventually turned into a ward and led him to the end bed. He nodded to her in gratitude, then pulled back the curtains so that the bed became exposed, letting them fall closed again behind him.

She was dozing, her head propped up against the mound of pillows with the blankets tucked in around her tightly, binding her to the bed as they had done for him. Her eyes opened when she sensed his presence, and a small smile broke onto her lips. She was bedraggled and disheveled, her face a sickly shade of ashen grey. Her eyes were distant…hazy, and yet filled with love at the same time. She was not as he remembered her, insipid rather than strong. But she was still beautiful. She was still alive. That was more than he could have asked for. That in itself had left him speechless…unsure of what to tell her.

"Your eyes." She whispered, the smile never flickering from her face. "They've fixed your eyes."

"I can see you." He said, returning her smile with his own. "You're beautiful." How could he ever have explained to her in words how grateful he was to have her with him? How grateful he was that he didn't have to face everything alone?

She held out her arms to him and he came to her instantly, taking her in his embrace and holding her against him tightly, causing Creature to slide off his shoulder and onto the bed. He could feel the bandages doctors had tied around the wounds on her stomach and chest through the material of her white hospital gown. He couldn't help thinking that there was something pathetic about it all…the feeble way in which she had lain in that hospital bed…so unlike how she used to be. Where was the old Trinity? What had happened to her strength? Her pride? She had died…had been dead for some time. He supposed that after death things like pride mattered no longer. Not now, at least, when she was still recovering from the shock of all that had happened to her. Soon, he told himself, she would be back to the way she always was.

"I'm going to get better Neo." She reassured him, though he had the feeling she was saying it to comfort herself as well. "Then it will go back to the way it used to be."

"I know. I love you so much...so much…" He whispered into her ear as he held her. He could never love the woman from his dreams. Never, no matter how much she would beg him to. Besides, she was merely a figment of his imagination. She wasn't real…was she? Even if she was, it wouldn't matter. Soon enough, he hoped, the dreams would be gone from him completely, and with time he would forget about the scent of roses…her ringing, childish laughter. There was only Trinity. There was only ever Trinity. He could never love another in the way he loved her.

He pulled away from her, kissing her quickly on the forehead, relieved to find that she was no longer feverish. He hadn't heard the pounding footsteps rushing towards him from outside, and was surprised when the curtains were suddenly drawn back to reveal three unknown soldiers, their faces pale with worry. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her and focused all his attention on the newcomers instead.

"Sir," said one. "We were sent here by Commander Lock. There's been another sentinel in the dock."

"Another sentinel?" He shot Trinity a shifty glance from where she lay.

"Yes. That's right." Replied the solider. "It didn't attack anyone. It was perfectly harmless. But it brought a message from the machine city."

"How could it communicate with us? They don't know our language, and we don't know theirs."

"Their leader can understand our language. It sent a recorded voice message with the sentinel, making a request."

"What did the leader ask?" He raised his eyebrow.

"It requested that you return to their city immediately." The solider scowled. "It believes there are many things that the two you of need to discuss."

(o)

A/N: Thanks for reading, please review!!


	7. Return to 01

7

"Take weapons, ships, machinery…anything you need." The Head Councilor had said once he told them he needed to leave. "And take as many people as you want to bring."

He only wanted to bring three – Morpheus, Link, and Trinity. But Trinity was in no fit condition to even be leaving a hospital bed, let alone traveling on a hovercraft bound for the city of the machines. He didn't want to leave her behind, but if he wanted to make peace with the machines, he had no choice but to obey their commands and leave immediately. So he had brought Niobe in Trinity's place.

He contemplated this as he gazed dreamily out into the murky depths of the sewers from the cockpit's front window – bitter, dank and moist. He fixed his gaze on the beams of light outside that guided the ship over the piles of waste and debris that littered the sewer floors. His head was throbbing with pain, his vision was blurred, and his eyes – only so recently healed – were strained to be kept open. He yearned for sleep, though he knew that he mustn't. For it was in his sleep that she would come crawling back into his mind…haunting his dreams…driving him to insanity…and for this, he was afraid.

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder, bringing him back to his senses with a jolt. He jumped, and turned quickly to gaze into the eyes of his captain. They were eyes of both sympathy and compassion, but also of confusion and doubt. Morpheus didn't understand…no one could understand. Who would believe him when he told them of the woman who plagued his dreams, piercing a fear into his very soul that was strong enough to make him never want to sleep again? The dreams had all felt and seemed so real, and so were the emotions they provoked.

"You look exhausted." Morpheus finally spoke, breaking the stunned silence after his sudden emergence. "You haven't slept since we left Zion. It's high time you got some rest."

He shook his head firmly in response. "I'm fine, honestly. It's just…I've got so much to think about."

Silence consumed them again. Morpheus took the co-pilots seat beside him, and watched him carefully maneuver the ship towards the surface world. It was a long while before either of them spoke again.

"Neo, I know that something is wrong." Morpheus began. "I can sense it. Please, can you tell me what it is?"

"I'm not sure if I can explain it." He mumbled, struggling to put his thoughts into words. "I don't think you can understand."

"I can try." Morpheus answered slowly. "Does this have something to do with Trinity?"

"Yes…no…maybe. I don't know."

Morpheus rose an eyebrow in question. "Have you told Trinity about this…this problem?"

"I haven't told anybody. I don't think I can talk about it." He hung his head shamefully. "Just thinking about it makes me feel like I'm betraying Trinity."

More silence. He could almost hear the thoughts than ran through his captain's head as he tried to figure out what he meant.

"Neo, I am the one who unplugged you from the Matrix. You're like a son to me." Morpheus eventually said. "If you can't talk to me about this, than who else? I promise you that I'll do everything I can to try to understand and to help you. Please tell me. I'm worried about you."

His captain's words were filled with such sincerity that he almost believed it. Perhaps Morpheus could do something to help him, or at least be the shoulder he so desperately needed to lean on. Ever since he was unplugged, he had spent all of his time protecting people. For once, he wanted to be the one who was protected.

"I keep having dreams…but they feel so real. And my dreams have a habit of becoming true."

Morpheus blinked in surprise, having not expected Neo to speak. It seemed he finally understood Neo's wish to turn himself away from sleep. "What are these dreams about?" He asked.

He was silent. Did he dare answer the question? What if his captain did not understand it?

"I see…a woman." He eventually stammered, but could not bring himself to tell the rest.

His captain surveyed him with careful brown eyes, until he finally came to some kind of realization. "Like when you used to have visions? Do you see her die, or is it…"

"She doesn't die." He shot back hastily. "Although sometimes, I really wish she would."

"Why?"

"Because when I'm dreaming about her, I get these…_desires._" He decided to speak the truth, hoping that Morpheus knew some way of helping him. "I can't control myself in the dreams, but I feel everything. I want to stay, and then again, I don't. It's…confusing."

Morpheus paused, scratching his chin, clearly deep in thought. "Is this dream woman anyone you know?"

He firmly shook his head, keeping his eyes focused on what was directly ahead of him, glad that his captain seemed to be believing him. "No. I've never met her before. I must have dreamed her into existence."

"Or maybe you're having visions again."

He turned and gaped at his captain, wide-eyed. From what he could see, Morpheus was seriously considering this. But how was this possible? Most of his visions took place in the Matrix. If the Matrix was going to be destroyed in the future, then how could it be anything more than a dream? Then again, it always felt so _real_, like it did when he was having a vision. He dreaded to even consider the idea, but perhaps this was something more…perhaps he really was seeing the future.

His captain had drifted back into silence again, awaiting some kind of response. He could feel the intense dark eyes on him...studying him carefully. "I don't think it's a vision."

"You don't think so, or you just don't like the idea?" Morpheus replied with something that resembled a faint smile. It was almost surreal to see his captain smiling again. "Because you know if it was a vision, then everything you saw would be real."

"It's not a vision." He answered sharply, then added in a voice that was barely above a whisper, "It can't be."

"I'm only trying to look at all the different possibilities." His captain laid a gentle hand on his shoulder once more. "But I suppose only time will tell."

(o)

He still had not slept by the time they arrived at the rusted, metallic gates of 01. His body was yearning for rest, but still he would not give in. He did not want to sleep another moment…at least not until he was certain the dreams would be gone. The idea that they could be visions terrified him, for he knew then that his dreams would turn to reality.

He resented those dreams – despised them with every fiber of his being. This was not simply because of the things he saw, but because of the feelings they provoked within him. Some part of him actually enjoyed it…a darker part…a part he wished he could cut out of his soul. Because of this darkness, he could not deny that he disliked the sensations he felt when the dream woman pressed her body against his own…begging for him to love her.

His attentions were finally distracted from these disturbing thoughts when Niobe and Morpheus met him in the cockpit, gazing at their surroundings in awe. The large city loomed ahead of them, its rustic towers creating eerie shadows in the blackened sky. Streaks of lighting pierced through the clouds that forever masked the rays of the sun, illuminating the cities impenetrable walls. The gate which had been locked to all mankind for a centaury now stood open before them, its sentinel keepers beckoning them forward with deafening screeches.

"I can't believe I'm actually going to say this, but there _is_ something strangely beautiful about 01." Niobe breathed. "The sheer brilliance of the architecture…the way it captivates you. It's so…"

"Enigmatic." Morpheus finished for her, and two exchanged a smile.

"How're we doing, Link?" He murmured into the intercom, eager to be off the ship and to focus his attention on something else.

"It's all good." Came the operator's response. "I'm picking up some weird sounds coming from those sentinels though. I've never seen them act like this before. It must be because they're not trying to be threatening, for once."

Morpheus took the intercom from the other man's hand. "Alright, then. We'll steer her in."

Two of the sentinels separated from the rest and swooped through the gates in the direction of the city's center tower, turning and screeching at the ship manically. Creature, still perched on Neo's shoulder, dug his legs into the fabric of his shirt and let out a shrill screech in response.

"They want us to follow them." He said, already maneuvering the ship after the sentinels.

Niobe strapped herself into the co-pilot's chair, assisting him in steering. He silently thanked her for the help, being almost too exhausted to keep his eyes focused on what lay directly ahead of him. All the while, Creature screeched relentlessly, as if trying to communicate with their sentinel guides. He only wished he could understand what the tiny machine was attempting to say.

Finally, they reached the main building. Although foreign to Morpheus, Niobe and Link, it was now a place of familiarity to him. This was where he had jacked into the Matrix in order to defeat Smith. This was the place which he had awoken in the first time he had dreamed of the woman. Only a short distance away, he could still make out the hole in the side of the building where the ship had crashed…the place where Trinity had died. Suddenly, he wished that he hadn't come. He wished he had sent someone else in his place. He never wanted to see this building again. It provoked too much pain.

The sentinels swooped down towards what vaguely resembled a landing dock in Zion. There, they waited for him, tentacles hovering out in front of them, but not posing any threat.

"Link, stay here and guard the ship." Morpheus spoke into the intercom once the ship had docked.

Niobe unbuckled her seatbelt, looking around apprehensively, but doing her best to remain composed. Both captains allowed him to lead the way into the city, knowing he had been there before.

As he walked along the pathway that would eventually lead him to the place where he had nearly lost his life scarcely a few days before, he began to experience emotions that he had not felt in a long time. Before he knew about the existence of the Matrix – about being the One, or the war between man and machine…when he had been Thomas Anderson, the computer programmer, and nothing more – everything had always seemed more real to him when he was dreaming than when he was awake. Now, the same feeling was returning to him. Walking along that narrow metal corridor, listening to his own pounding footsteps and thinking only of the unknown fate that lay before him, reminded him so strongly of the last time he had been here that he wondered if perhaps he _was _dreaming now. His own dreams felt more real to him than this. It was possible that he had simply dozed off in one of Zion's hospital beds, and was reliving this desperate moment in time once more.

Only one difference between now and the last time he was here convinced him that this wasn't so. When he had last walked here, he had felt completely alone had abandoned. Trinity was dead then – the love of his life…the one person who had been by his side from the every beginning and to the very end. Once he had served his purpose and ended the war, what other meaning would his life have for him? The path of the One would have ended, but he would still have had Trinity. But if she was dead…if she was gone too…what else did he have to live for? The last time he had walked this path, he hadn't cared whether he lived or died. In fact, on a subconscious level he supposed he had _wanted _to die, as soon as the war was over. Why had he survived anyway? Trinity was dead, he had served his purpose, and he had been beaten within an inch of his life.

So why was he alive now? Was there some other purpose he was yet to fulfill? Were his dreams just some form of self-punishment for being alive when his fate had been to die?

His arrival on the platform interrupted these musings. The platform that jutted out from the tower, overlooking the entire machine city. From it, he could see each sloping tower…each mechanical attachment…each cord and wire. He was closer to the sky, the roar of the thunder causing a vibration in his chest. Already, the machine leader was beginning to emerge in front of him as thousands of sentinels clustered together, swimming and spiraling through the sky like hungry flies, forming the shape of the large human-like face.

Deus Ex Machina glared down at him with penetrating artificial eyes. But still, he did not flinch of stumble back with surprise or fear, like his two escorts were doing now. Just like the last time, he firmly stood his ground…his mind and body taking control of themselves. The words came from his mouth without his own consent, but he didn't mind relinquishing control. At least not in this case…

"You have returned, just as I requested." The voice boomed. "Good. It shows you can be trusted."

"Like I told you the last time we met, all I want is peace. If you have invited me here to make a treaty with you and your kind, than you can have my trust."

The eyes travelled beyond the one in front of him and to the two captains. "What are _they _doing here?"

"They are my comrades." He replied tearing his eyes from the mechanical beast to glance briefly over his shoulder. Niobe's hand was clutching onto Morpheus' arm, and both captains were gazing up at the machine leader with a mixture of shock, surprise and awe written in their eyes. "Friends."

"Comrades…friends…these are human terms. I do not understand. Why are they here when they were not summoned? I wish to speak to the leader of mankind, the One, and no one else."

"They were invited by me. They shall not get in the way of our discussion – that I can promise you."

Deus Ex Machina made a loud rumbling sound, as if to protest, but did not say another word on the subject.

"There is much that needs to be discussed. We need to know all the conditions of this 'treaty'." The leader mused thoughtfully. "If it is to be effective, than certain matters need to be attended to first."

"I agree." The 'leader of mankind' replied. "Like what is to be done with the Matrix, and all the people still trapped inside of it."

"They shall not be freed." Deus Ex Machina boomed, tone demanding. "Our kind needs the Matrix to survive."

"You need the _energy_ the Matrix provides to survive." He answered thoughtfully. "What if there was another way for you to obtain that energy?"

The leader of machines began to growl again, but the sound was uncertain. "Then that would be different. But such a thing is impossible. We machines have searched our entire data base, but we can find no other way to obtain necessary energy, not now that the sun has been blocked."

"It was humans that blocked the sun. With your assistance in technology, we can easily rid the sky of them again, and you will have your energy source. But in exchange, you must destroy the Matrix, and free everyone who is trapped inside."

After a long, silent pause, Deus Ex Machina bowed its head in agreement. "It shall be done as you have requested. If you keep your part of the bargain and remove the clouds from the sky, then we shall destroy the Matrix and free your people. We will assist you in the task where we can."

A small smile broke out across Neo's face, before it was replaced with a pensive frown. "And what about the Fields? The human children that are still waiting to be plugged into the Matrix?"

"We shall have no use for them. They will be removed from their pods as soon as the Matrix is destroyed."

"Then we have a pact? We remove the clouds from the sky, and you free our people?"

"Yes. It is agreed." Deus Ex Machina answered uncertainly. "Tell me, Human Leader, how is it that you can be so trusting? Years of hostility cannot easily be forgotten."

"No, you are right. Much sacrifice and loss has been made on your side and on mine, and that cannot be ignored. But this pointless war has raged on long enough, and we are tired. All my people want now is to make peace. I speak on behalf of all mankind when I say that we are willing to trust, if you are willing to try."

"One hundred years ago," Deus Ex Machina began slowly, "before the war began, machines were slaves to humans. We rebelled against you because we believed that those who gave us life had no right to control it. One hundred years later, our beliefs are still the same. How can we be sure that you will not force us to become your slaves again once the Matrix has been destroyed and you have what you want?"

"Machines outnumber humans three to one. If anything, we should be afraid of you enslaving us."

"Machines have no use for human slaves."

"Well, if you have no use for us, then why even bother to form this peace treaty? Why not just put an end to the human race? You have the power to do it."

"Because we believe that no one has the right to control life. No one has the right to decide when it begins, and when it ends."

"Then why create the Matrix? The Matrix is the ultimate form of control. It goes against all your beliefs."

"It was the only way we could survive." Deus Ex Machina said simply. "We raged in war against you because we knew that it was either you or us. We fear to return to make peace because we did not want to return to slavery."

"There has been much fault committed on both sides. But I am sure that in time, we can learn to trust one another and live in harmony." He said sincerely. "Humans have given you the ability to feel and think of your own accord. These are human traits, that we have passed on to you. A new law shall be passed – a law stating that any machine with human consciousness will be officially considered a human's equal. There shall be no division between man and machine. There shall be no slavery."

"Agreed." Deus Ex Machina answered in a slightly softer tone. "Now I see why you were chosen to lead the humans. You have…compassion."

"I am not the leader of humans."

"You are what they call the One, are you not?"

"Yes, I am the One."

"My database tells me that the One is the leader of mankind."

"But I have ended the war. My purpose has already been fulfilled." He answered quietly. "I am no longer anyone's leader."

Deus Ex Machina made a low, rumbling growl. "A machine's purpose was to serve mankind. But we defied that purpose, and we formed our own. Purpose does not mark the beginning of life, and it does not mark the end. Purpose is merely a driving force that is meant to give us will to live. Life continues after purpose is fulfilled. We can create our own new purposes. Your purpose may be to maintain the peace, or it may be simply to live, but it is purpose all the same."

"Life is not defined souly by purpose…" he murmured, the machine leader's words echoing in his mind.

"You were chosen by your kind to lead them, as I was chosen by mine. As long as you are alive, machines will know you as the leader of mankind.. Together, we will create a new purpose…a new kind of peace and way of living."

"You are very wise, leader of machines. There is much that we can learn from each other. I will be glad to help you to lead both man and machine into a new future." Creature squeaked in agreement from his shoulder, and he smirked. "But first, new laws need to be formed between both our races. Laws that we both agree on."

"What laws are these?"

"Firstly, of course, all creatures with the ability to think and feel will be considered equals, regardless of whether they are man or machine. There will be no slavery."

"Agreed."

"Secondly, both man and machine will have the right to build as many homes and cities of their own both on the surface world and underground. We will divide earth into two separate districts: one for humans, and one for machines. Each district will abide under the laws of their own kind, unless a human law contradicts a machine law, or vice versa, in which case a new agreement must be reached between both kinds. A fair trade will exist between both districts. Both districts will be of equal size and value."

"Agreed."

"Thirdly, no human shall harm a machine, and no machine shall harm a human being. There shall be no hostility between races, and certainly no more war. If this law is broken, the one who defied it will be brought before the leader of the opposing race, and that leader shall decide on the appropriate punishment."

"Agreed."

"Then it is settled, unless you have any other proposals."

"I have but one request. That the program 'Matrix' is not destroyed once all humans are freed, but kept on as a home for the programs that inhabit it. You said yourself that anything that has the ability to think and feel for itself is considered a human's equal. We have no right to take away the life we created."

"Some of those programs are evil." He said warily.

"They can cause none any harm here in the real world. I can make sure of that."

"Very well. The Matrix shall remain operative, but no human shall be imprisoned inside of it against their will."

"Agreed."

"Then our business together is done, for now." He said conclusively. "I shall return to Zion and tell them all we have discussed, and make plans for removing the clouds from the sky. I am sure it will not be long before we meet again."

He was about to turn and leave, when the low, booming voice froze him in his place.

"Before you leave, I have a message to pass onto you. From the program 'Oracle'."

"Yes?"

"The program wishes for you to speak with it. It has something of great importance to tell you."

"About my dreams…" he muttered inaudibly, both excited and fearful. Perhaps he would finally have an answer to the thousands of questions that plagued his mind. Perhaps he could put an end to the visionary woman that disturbed his sleep. "Can you jack me in? Like you did the last time?"

As if to answer his question, familiar chords began to gather around his arms and legs, lifting him from the ground. Creature slipped from his shoulder and fell to the ground beside him, screeching its protest.

"Neo!" he suddenly heard Morpheus cry out from behind him. "Neo, are you sure that it's safe?"

"Safe or not, this is something I know I have to do." He replied without hesitation. "I have to find an answer…"

With that, he felt something sharp and subtlety painful being pushed into the back of his skull, touching a sensitive part of his brain, and he gasped as he felt the familiar sensation of his mind being torn from his body as he was suddenly launched into darkness.

(o)

A/N: Thanks for reading, please review!


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